


Soul Full of Stars

by rainsoakedhello



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Getting to Know Each Other, HP: EWE, Healer Draco Malfoy, M/M, Mpreg, Multi, New to this Tagging Business, Post-War, Professor Harry, Professor Snape - Freeform, Sexual Content, Spell Theory, Tattoos, Threesome - M/M/M, no infidelity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2018-12-18 00:16:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11862642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainsoakedhello/pseuds/rainsoakedhello
Summary: Sometimes the life you are handed isn't the one you planned on, but it is just the one you needed in the end.This is the tale of a misspoken spell, a well-aimed Avada Kedavra and the resulting aftermath for three men.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I am new to this site and this is my first foray into writing in this fandom, although not to fanfiction in general. This story serves as a personal exploration to see how well I can write a combination of a few of my favorite fandom things, namely Drarry, Snarry, Harry/Draco/Snape Threesomes and Mpreg. I hope I am able to do them justice as this progresses, but if these are not your cup of tea, I appreciate you at least reading this far! 
> 
> I do have the first couple chapters written (everything is outlined), but I will space out posting to hopefully give me time to stay ahead in writing. I know this first chapter is a bit slow going, but I am working to essentially 'set the stage' for what is to come.
> 
> Final note, this is unbeta'd, so I take ownership of any errors. If anything glaring stands out, please let me know so I can fix it. I appreciate you taking a chance on this story!
> 
> **0o0o0**

“Welcome to another year at Hogwarts and an especially warm welcome all first years. I do hope that you find your time here educational but memorable all the same,” the Headmistress greeted the room with a warm smile, standing in front of her chair at the head table. Since the end of the war and officially taking her post as Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall had softened, for lack of a better term.

She was still the strict Scotswoman of Harry’s youth, but she was softer around the edges, figuratively speaking, adopting a bit more of a motherly air about her. Looking out among the faces in the packed hall, she continued, “I will keep this brief as I am well aware that everyone is more interested in the feast than my blathering, but there are a few start of term notices I do need to make you all aware of. First and foremost, the Forbidden Forest is still forbidden for good reason and unless you wish to possibly lose appendages or worse, you will heed my warning. 

“Second, I am happy to announce that Professor Snape will continue to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts this term as Professor Barrows -” the Headmistress motioned to a portly sandy-haired man reminiscent of Slughorn two seats to her left who struggled to stand from his low seat and was blushing furiously, “- has agreed to a continue as the Potions professor for another term. However, Professor Snape will still continue to oversee the Potions Mastery Prep course for any interested seventh year. Please see your head of house for further details.

“And finally, as we continue to reform the Hogwarts curriculum, I am pleased to announce that we are adding a new course this year -- Defense and Spell Theory. This course will be a requirement for all first through fifth years and taught as a companion course to Defense Against the Dark Arts. You will find this course appropriately on your time tables which your house Prefects will pass out after the feast. For the older students, there will be an advanced elective of this course if you so choose. If interested, please see your head of house as they can further discuss the course requisites and assist you with scheduling.”

The Headmistress paused for a moment, readying herself for the last announcement she had to make, knowing all attention on her would be lost momentarily. “With that said, please welcome Professor Potter who has graciously agreed to oversee this new course.” At that, the hall erupted in chatter and cheers, with more than a few students stunned to silence, openly gaping at Harry as he sat among the other professors as if they hadn’t noticed him sitting there all along.

Harry stood up from his seat and gave a small wave to the rest of the room before him as he felt his cheeks flush deeply at the attention. Over the years, he had gotten more comfortable in his own skin and somewhat used to the attention -- years of Ministry functions helped with that -- but he still didn’t particularly enjoy the attention at times like this. At least in terms of attention due to his name and unwanted celebrity status. The star-struck business could be frustrating at the best of times and feel downright suffocating at the worst of times. Today, standing in front of the Great Hall, was about right in the middle.

As he sat back down, a deep drawl came from Harry’s left side, barely loud enough for Harry to hear over the sound echoing in the Great Hall. “Still the center of attention I see, Mr. Potter. How... _precious_.”

Looking over, Harry saw Snape smirking at him. This is one thing that Harry still wasn’t used to though; this new side of his old Potions professor. The man was no longer the hard-faced, dour, spiteful man that Harry grew up knowing. The war had changed him, just like it had changed everyone. But for Snape, in his mind he hadn’t been meant to survive, and yet here he was. Nagini’s bite had nearly cost him his life, but he managed to escape death and that experience irrecoverably changed the man both physically and emotionally. He was no where near a warm and fuzzy teddy bear of a man like Hagrid, but he had softened too, much to Harry’s astonishment.

“Piss off, Snape,” Harry shot back with a grateful smile, happy that some things about the man had not changed, mainly his snark.

Casting a _sonorus_ so she could be heard over the cacophony of the students, the Headmistress bellowed, “Quiet! Quiet everyone!” It took a few moments, but once the volume in the hall lessened to a satisfactory level for the woman, she finally said in a lower volume, “Let the feast begin.” 

Just as it was when Harry was a student, the trays and platters of overflowing food appeared before his eyes until the tables were groaning under the sheer weight piled atop them, delicious smells assaulting his nose. Oh, he had missed this. Hermione may hex him five ways to Sunday if she ever heard him admit this aloud, but nothing beat the Hogwarts elves’ cooking. Even Mrs. Weasley’s cooking didn’t hold a candle to the spread before him.

Knowing his eyes were bigger than his stomach, but not caring in the slightest, Harry piled his plate full with pumpkin pasties, rich Yorkshire pudding, juicy sausages, roast chicken and much more. Digging in, he let his mind wander to the last few months while quiet conversation was going on around him.

When Harry had approached the Headmistress at the end of the prior term, he had never expected his suggestion to take off as much as it did. Originally, he had just proposed the idea as a week-long lecture as part of Defense Against the Dark Arts and Harry had offered himself up as the guest lecturer, having just finished his mastery. 

It surprised many, Harry most of all, that he found a passion for spell crafting and defense theory as opposed to practical application after the war, but it was true. Understanding how different magical elements -- magical energy, language of origin, intent, nature of crafting and so on -- could be combined in the creation of a spell and analyzing how one small _blip_ could change the whole outcome of a spell when cast was incredibly fascinating. 

Harry had left the Headmistress to think about his proposal and the idea had grown from there until she called Harry back to the castle the week before his birthday and very abruptly asked him if he would be interested in accepting a teaching position as the Board of Governors had been impressed with the idea of a companion theory course and whole-heartedly sponsored the course addition for the upcoming term. Harry had accepted the position the next day and since then, it had been a whirlwind attempting to get prepared for his first year of teaching within just one month.

He managed though, but would not have succeeded without surprising help in the form of one Severus Snape. As the Defense and Spell Theory course was intended to be a companion course to Defense Against the Dark Arts, the practical course which Snape had been teaching since he returned two years prior, the pair had to work closely to ensure the compatibility of their course structures and materials. 

Admittedly, it had been awkward to say the least when both men started to work together. Old habits die hard, as they say. However, neither were the same man they were the last time they had spoken. Harry had grown up and had found a deep respect for Snape after viewing the man’s memories and Snape, well, he just had a new respect for life in general. Nearly dying in the horrific manner that he had was bound to change the man. They had quickly found a rhythm of co-existence.

Harry would not necessarily call himself and Severus ‘friends’ at this juncture, but they were pleasantly civil which worked well enough and for that, Harry was grateful. Making amends with Snape was something he had wanted to do since the dust had settled after the war, but the man had been a hard one to track down once Harry realized that Snape had not actually died in the Shrieking Shack as he had originally assumed. Harry had tried though, even convincing Ron to do a bit of snooping after he graduated from the Auror academy. 

Once Harry heard that Snape was back teaching though, he could never pluck up the nerve to visit and thank the man as he so desperately wanted to do. For all the Gryffindor courage Harry supposedly had, that courage did not generally filter over when dealing with Snape.

All too soon the feast was ending, bringing Harry back to the present and he found he had eaten to the point of being nearly uncomfortable in his trousers, but the food had simply been too good and although he probably should have skipped dessert, he was not known for being able to turn down a good treacle tart when placed in front of him. 

He looked up to see that the students were being led out of the Great Hall by the Prefects with many of the professors slowly following behind to either their personal quarters or the house common rooms for those assigned as heads of house. Harry watched as Snape walked away with the crowd, presumably to the Slytherin common room to cover the start of term house notices, his robes billowing behind him the same way they had years prior. 

_Some things never change_ , Harry thought.

Harry heard his name called moments before a warm hand fell upon his shoulder. “How are you settling in?”

Looking up at his old head of house, he smiled. “Good so far. I have the last bit I just brought today to unpack, but so far I don’t have any complaints. It is admittedly good to be back.”

The Headmistress gently squeezed his shoulder. “We are very happy to have you back, Harry. I did want to inform you that each professor is assigned a personal house elf to assist them with whatever they find necessary, be that meals or cleaning in your quarters, assistance with delivery of items to other staff members and so on. Minky has been assigned to you, so just call for her if you need anything at all.”

With another squeeze of his shoulder and that warm, motherly smile still firmly planted on her lips, she finished, “Best be going now. Tomorrow will be a long day and you probably need your rest. However, please do not hesitate to find me if you need anything at all, Harry. The password is ‘felis catus’.”

Harry laughed, not surprised that her password would be something feline related, just like Dumbledore’s was always very predictably sweets related. “Thank you, Headmistress.”

The woman clucked at him in response. “None of that now, Harry! You may call me Minerva. We have known each other long enough for first names, don’t you think?”

“I suppose,” Harry said, smiling again up at the older woman. “Good night then, Minerva.”

“Good night as well, Harry.” With that, Minerva walked out of the Great Hall leaving Harry alone. 

He didn’t linger long and soon found himself at the door to his rooms at the base of the tower near the viaduct entrance. Like most of the staff, his rooms were not password protected like the house common rooms and instead set up with personal wards that only the particular staff member, the Headmistress and anyone else specifically approved were keyed into. Harry pressed his palm against the smooth stone to the left of the door, feeling the tingle of magic dance across his palm, and soon the door was swinging inward to allow him entrance.

The room before him was glowing in a soft yellow from the sconces on the wall, which he had earlier charmed to light whenever he entered the quarters. The glow was heightened by the fire crackling in the hearth, its warmth eclipsing the slight chill that had settled in the early September night air. With a wave of his hand, grateful for his knack at wandless magic, he reset the wards and added a silencing charm for good measure out of habit. Shrugging out of his robe, he hung it on the hook beside the door, bending down to remove his boots before setting them below the robe and then surveyed the room in greater focus. 

The room was comfortably furnished with a gently worn leather sofa and matching arm chairs flanking the hearth and several plush rugs scattered about the floor, a buffer between his feet and the cool stone beneath them. Several large bookcases flanked the hearth and Harry was quite proud of the progress he had made in filling them already. He had scavenged through the Black library for any tomes that may prove useful this year, among others for more personal reading if he found the time, and added his own book collection from his mastery studies.

Harry had been to his quarters many times already, having spent more nights here over the last month than at his own flat, but he still had a bit more to do tonight before he would feel appropriately settled in to start the term.

Locating the trunk he had brought earlier in the day, he opened it and began taking out the last few items. Removing the large afghan first, a soft thing of gray and pale green yarn courtesy of Mrs. Weasley and her magic knitting needles, he draped it across the back of the sofa. Turning back to the open trunk and with a quick flick of his wrist, several pictures flew out and settled themselves against the walls and along the bookshelves and mantle while a battered, but well loved, tea kettle flew through the archway into the kitchenette in the back corner. 

Turning next towards the set of closed doors at the back of the room, he opened the first door, his trunk obediently following behind him into the bedroom. He motioned the trunk to the settle at the end of the bed and as soon as it was, he reached in to gently grab the last item housed inside.

He held the large picture frame delicately in his hands and stared at the two pictures moving side by side. On the left side of the frame was the picture of his mother and father that Hagrid had given him all those years ago -- his first picture of his parents. He loved to watch them twirl and smile and laugh as they danced together. This is how he chooses to think of them -- carefree and so completely in love.

The picture on the right side was of him and Draco, sneakily taken by Ginny at Ron and Hermione’s wedding the year prior. The men had snuck out into the orchard to get away from the noise and press of bodies for just a few moments. They had found themselves by the old willow tree near the edge of the Weasley property and had taken a moment to snog each other senseless. Unbeknownst to them though, Ginny had quietly followed the pair and snapped the picture before sneaking just as quietly away. 

What makes it Harry’s favorite picture though is she captured the perfect moment to freeze in the infinite loop. The loop starts with them tightly embraced and kissing like the other is the air they need to breathe and ends as they break apart, Draco moving from Harry’s lips to press his own against Harry’s forehead as Harry leans into the taller man’s touch, both smiling softly at the moment. Throughout the whole loop, the willow branches dance and glow behind them as garden fairies flit between the branches, mimicking a sparkling sky of stars. 

His fingers traced the silhouettes in the picture with care before gently placing the frame on the nightstand.

Looking back, their relationship was actually one that didn’t surprise many people, at least those close to the pair, outside of Harry and Draco themselves. But somehow, with all of their tumultuous history, they made a relationship work and they were now sharing a flat and were still so stupidly in love four years later.

Harry felt a slight tug in his chest as reality sunk in that as of now, they actually were not, in fact, sharing that flat together. Instead, Draco was living in the flat and Harry was living here for the foreseeable future. They still agreed to visit each other as often as possible, but they knew both would be busy -- Harry with his classes and Draco with his job at St. Mungo’s and upcoming Healer’s licensing exam. Still, Harry felt empty at the thought of going to bed alone more nights than not after becoming so used to the other man’s warmth next to him.

Harry was pulled out of his wallowing by a soft _pop_ as a house elf appeared behind him. “Can Minky be getting Master Potter anything?” the small elf squeaked out, eyes hopeful as she smoothed the pillowcase covering her small form.

“I’m fine Minky. Thank you.” As Harry spoke, he saw the elf’s large ears droop in distress at her assistance being refused, so he was quick to add, “I will be certain to call you as soon as I do need anything though.” That must have appeased the young elf as she soon nodded once and disappeared with another _pop_ , just as softly as the first.

Before Harry let himself sink back into his woe-is-me thoughts, he decided to go about his nightly routine, brushing his teeth and changing into his favorite silky sleep pants while removing his shirt. Draco always preferred when he slept shirtless; ‘the better to hear your heartbeat’ Draco would always respond whenever Harry would ask why. He would then try to play it off as medically speaking, making sure Harry's heart stayed beating through the night, but Harry knew better. Draco had turned into a sap -- a sap that Harry was utterly besotted with.

Harry cast a quick glance through the doorway at the small fire in the living room and wondered if he should floo Draco just to check in and see how the other man was faring. A quick _tempus_ though told Harry he was better off going to sleep and not bothering his boyfriend at the late hour.

Exhaustion was quickly settling into his body anyways as Harry crawled into the large bed and settled himself in the middle among a mound of pillows, hugging one tightly to his chest. With one last look at the picture beside the bed, he closed his eyes willing sleep to claim him quickly.

Morning would come soon enough and he needed his wits about him to survive his first day of classes tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for everyone that has given my little story a chance! I was so surprised with the kudos, comments and everything. You all warm my little heart!
> 
> Anyways, onwards to the next portion of this story.

Morning had indeed come quickly and before Harry knew it, he was showered, dressed, finished with breakfast and waiting in his classroom nursing a cup of strong coffee -- surprisingly Draco’s influence after the man developed a taste for the dark brew while balancing late night shifts at St. Mungo’s and studying.

No more than five minutes passed before Harry was watching as the Slytherin and Gryffindor second years filtered into the classroom. Even after four years away from the school, he was surprised that these two houses were still paired together for many of their courses. But then again, the dynamics of the houses appeared to have changed since he was a student, as was evident by the mixed seating arrangement the students adopted all on their own. 

Well that was one less thing for Harry to worry about this morning. He had planned to have house integration as an important part this course, but the students had already taken that out of his hands. 

As the last student sat down, Harry set his cup aside and waved his hand to close the door at the back of the room. Taking a seat on the corner of his desk, he looked at the faces staring back, most with an expression somewhere between awe and rapt attention. 

“Welcome to Defense and Spell Theory,” he said, smiling warmly out at the class. “I am Professor Potter and before we get started today, I want to make a few things very clear. I am here to help you all learn defensive magic. I desperately hope there will never be a true need for any of you to use this knowledge outside of this classroom or Professor Snape’s, but I am not naive enough to think there will never be the possibility. I am also here to guide you through the theory and hopefully lead you on your way to mastery of complex defensive charms. Finally, I am here to listen to any concern you have about your course work or related studies. I am not here however to answer questions about the war unless they pertain to our discussions and I am definitely not here to discuss my personal life.

“I am really just Harry Potter, a normal man with a not so normal past that surprisingly fell in love with magical theory and spell crafting who would like to share that passion and knowledge with all of you.” He paused for a moment, grabbing his cup and taking another quick drink.

“With that out of the way, you should know that the goal of this course will be two-fold. Firstly it will be to discuss in detail the actual theory behind and magical structure of spells related to their application with a special focus on defensive magic. Secondly, and what I am most excited to share with you all, it will be to learn to analyze how the intent placed behind a spell can change the overall outcome, sometimes even taking a normally harmless spell and making it quite destructive. With this information, you will all put your studies to practical use in Defense Against the Dark Arts with Professor Snape, so do try to make me proud,” Harry said with a playful wink in the general direction of the class and in return he did see a few students quickly blushing scarlet. “Now, lets see what you all remember from last year. Can anyone tell me why spell theory would be so important?”

No hands raised, which honestly didn’t surprise Harry. He had just thrown a lot of different information at the class and by the looks on some of their faces, they were still processing it all, while others were still calming their blush. 

“No one?” Harry stood, walking across the front of the room looking at different students as he passed. With a small sigh, he continued, “Alright, I will explain this concept but I do expect active participation in this class. I prefer volunteers, but I will not be above calling anyone out at random.

“Theory is an important part of any discipline because understanding the why and how behind a concept often makes the application and mastery easier. For example, knowing that the _expecto patronum_ charm has a goal of producing a corporeal patronus is one thing, but understanding that at even a very base level, the charm itself means ‘I await a guardian’ helps to build the knowledge of the purpose behind the charm -- to produce a protective force. Diving deeper than that, the charm only works by the caster thinking of their happiest memories. Does anyone know why?”

This time several hands raised around the room and Harry nodded to a small blond girl in a Slytherin robe. “Miss Bishop.”

Sitting up a bit straighter in her chair, she cleared her throat, the action reminding Harry a bit of Hermione. “Sir, a patronus is commonly used as a defense to repel dementors, which suck the happiness from a person. So if you are holding to a happy memory, they cannot feed off of you properly.”

“Very good, Miss Bishop. Five points to Slytherin.” The young girl blushed at the praise as Harry continued his lecture. “Yes, while a patronus can be used in other instances, such as sharing messages with others over distances or when face-to-face communication is simply not possible, the original intent of the charm was to repel dementors, among other dark creatures. Focusing on the dementors though, since their purpose is to suck out a person’s happiness leaving the victim to relive their worst memories, the charm is created by a burst of positive, happy energy essentially used to counteract the dementor’s power. 

“The only thing I would change for what Miss Bishop stated is that the patronus works to repel a dementor, not necessarily because the dementor cannot feed off of the happy memory you are holding to, but because a patronus is not a living entity. A patronus is purely positive emotion with no ability to feel negative emotions and thus a dementor has no power over it. So the happier the memory, the more powerful the patronus and the greater the repelling force. Now watch.”

With that, wand in hand, Harry thought of a happy memory -- the first time he flew on a broom. Although it was no where near his happiest memory, it was happy enough to generate his stag as he yelled, “ _Expecto patronum_!” He let the stag prance around the room for the moment, all eyes of the students glued to the lightly shimmering animal, until Harry flicked his wrist and the patronus disappeared into the air.

He then thought of a new memory, one of his happiest memories to date and called out the spell again. This time when his stag erupted from the tip of his wand, it glowed brightly and was nearly a solid silver form. Again, he let the animal prance around the room, nosing at different students until Harry cut off the spell again. 

Tucking his wand back in his forearm holster, Harry looked around the class. “Did anyone notice a difference?” Several more hands raised at this question and Harry looked towards a brown-haired boy that sat near the front of the room. “Mr. Collins.”

The boy shifted in his seat nervously, darting his eyes around the room quickly before quietly responding,“The -- the second one was brighter, sir.”

“Correct! Five points to Gryffindor. While I was able to cast two corporeal patronuses, the differing level of positive emotion behind them was evident. The first, while visible was still very weak and would have been little defense against a dementor for long, let alone several at once. The second though was much more powerful, the shape more solid, due to the increased positive emotion I put behind it -- the happier the memory. So you see, knowing what a spell does is one thing, but understanding the theory behind the deeper purpose and overall spell formula can help to change the effectiveness and in the end, mastery, of it.”

Harry watched as the many of the students nodded in understanding, adding notes to the pieces of parchment in front of them. No one seemed to have a look of complete confusion, so Harry took that as a win so far. “Now, for the next part of the lesson, I want you all to imagine you are in a friendly duel with the person seated next to. Their wand is at the ready, pointing right at you. What is a spell you would cast to defend yourself; the first spell that comes to mind?”

Harry looked around the room, as a good number of hands raised, pleased with the participation so far. This was going better than Harry could have ever hoped. “Mr. Mathis, what spell would you use?”

“ _Expelliarmus_ ,” the boy responded very matter-of-factly.

“Good, good! What else?” Harry scanned the room again, calling on another student. “Miss Price.”

“I would use a _protego charm_ , sir.”

“Great choice, Miss Price! What about you, Miss Archibald?”

“Um, _petrificus totalus_?”

“Very good!” Harry beamed at the class and resumed his seat at the corner of his desk. “Now, let’s talk about these spells. The first spell -- _expelliarmus_ \-- is considered a standard defensive spell because its purpose is to prevent your opponent from cursing you by disarming them, with generally very little physical impact to your opponent. Then we had the _protego_ charm. This is a pure defensive spell because its sole purpose is to protect the caster with no intended negative action against the opponent, although there are times that some spells can ricochet instead of being absorbed by the shield. 

“Finally, we have _petrificus totalus_. This is technically considered an offensive spell since it incapacitates your opponent, but was still suggested as a defensive action and would serve that purpose brilliantly, preventing your opponent from cursing you by temporally taking away their ability to move, giving you ample time to further disarm and subdue them. What this shows is that defensive magic, what we will be studying this course, is made up of many different parts. There is no one set type of spell class that is the only thing considered ‘defensive’. Defensive magic includes both spells that do have a sole purpose of protecting the caster with little to no other ill-effects on the opponent, as well as offensive spells used to neutralize a threat. ‘The best defense is a good offense’ as the Muggles would say.”

Harry paused then, grabbing his cup again and looking about the room. All the students were hastily writing notes, the scratch of quills against parchment filling the otherwise quiet room now that Harry has stopped talking.

Giving the students a moment to finish up, Harry took another drink, happy his coffee was still warm thanks to the warming charm he had cast before he started his lecture. Setting the cup aside again, he noticed most of the students were just about finished up with their notes. “Let’s get into the good stuff now, shall we? Please open your books to Chapter 2,” Harry called out before diving into his first official lecture of his Hogwarts teaching career.

Things went much better than Harry could have ever hoped and much sooner than expected, he was looking back out at the class and giving them their homework assignment. “For next class, please read Chapter 3 out of you Defensive Theory textbook regarding category one defensive spells and turn in a 12 to 18 inches of parchment analyzing one of the spells covered in the chapter. Your analysis should include the spells origin, magical composition, detailed purpose and outline in detail at least one practical application of the spell. 

“Now off you go,” Harry said, dismissing the class with a wave and carefree smile at the bunch. The students packed themselves up and left the room with a practiced efficiency and a few cheerful ‘goodbyes’ called out on the way to their next class and soon Harry was alone. He moved around the desk to take a seat in his chair, opening one of the textbooks in front of him to start going over the notes for his next class -- the fifth year Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs.

“Impressive, Mr. Potter,” a deep voice called, dripping with mock disdain, but Harry could hear the actual masked praise behind it. He looked up from the book on his desk to see Snape leaning in the doorway to the classroom, arms crossed against his chest and obsidian eyes watching Harry closely.

Harry felt a deep laugh bubbling up at the absurdity of the moment. Here was Snape, the bane of his younger years, complimenting him and sounding genuine, despite trying to come off otherwise. “Don’t sound so surprised, Snape. I never was the complete dolt you thought I was.” Quirking his eyebrow in a poor imitation of Snape himself, he studied the man and finally shook his head, hair falling into his eyes. “I should have known you would have been watching.”

Snape let out a nearly undignified snort at Harry’s comment. “Of course I would. I need to know if you are adequately preparing them for my course. You have done, dare I say, passable.” 

Harry rolled his eyes at the backhanded compliment. Only Snape could praise you and try to cut your ego to ribbons at the same time. “I appreciate the vote of confidence, sir.”

“As you should, Potter. As you should.” Before Harry had time to open his mouth to retort back, Snape was leaving in a flourish of black fabric, leaving Harry staring at the empty doorway. Shaking his head, he went back to the book in front of him, diving back into his notes again. 

Not long after, a quiet shuffle against the stone floor alerted him to a new presence in the room. Looking up, he saw the small blond girl from his second year class. “Miss Bishop, correct?”

The girl smiled brightly in return, presumably at Harry remembering her. “Yes, sir. Novalee Bishop. I just forgot one of my note sheets after class.” She motioned to the table she had occupied a short time ago and sure enough, a small piece of parchment was still on the top. “I apologize for interrupting you.” A light blush rose on her cheeks.

“You weren’t interrupting at all. I was just going over my notes for my next class.” Harry motioned down to the text and parchment in front of him. “Can I let you in on a little secret?” The girl nodded and stepped closer to Harry’s desk as he crooked his finger in her direction, motioning her forward. “I’m a bit nervous with this teaching business.” Harry whispered, not sure why he actually told the young girl this. Novelee’s eyes grew wide at the admission.

“You?” she sputtered out. “Why would you be nervous, sir? You -- you’re Harry Potter!”

“Precisely. I’m _Harry Potter_ and I think people maybe expect a bit more from me.” Harry still wasn’t sure why he was admitting this to one of his students, but it was too late now to take it back unless he wanted to _obliviate_ a young child, which he steadfastly refused to do.Novalee studied Harry for a moment, as if she was reading more into his words than what was actually said. “Well if it matters, I think you did brilliant earlier! I’m really excited for this class.”

“It does matter. It matters quiet a bit. Thank you, Novalee,” Harry quietly responded with a small smile for the young girl. “Off you go now. I do believe it is just about lunch time and you don’t want to be late." 

“Bye, Professor,” she called, running out the door. Shaking his head at the young girl, he returned his attention to his book and parchment once more.

**~.~**

The rest of the day flew by without incident, his fifth year class going remarkably well, and before Harry knew it, he was back in the Great Hall for dinner. He dished a bit of roast on his plate and dug in. As he was focused on the food in front of him, he heard the chair on his right pull out. Expecting Snape, a biting quip formed on the tip of his tongue as he looked up, but it soon died away. “Neville?”

“Hiya, Harry,” the tall man responded with a wide, happy smile, clapping Harry on the shoulder before sitting. 

“What are you doing here?” Harry asked, surprised to see his old friend at the staff table. “I didn’t know you were teaching this year.” 

“I didn’t either,” he laughed out. “Surprised me really when McGonagall asked. I just got back yesterday from my research trip. We were in the Amazon jungle -- amazing place really -- looking for Red-tipped Coryanthes. It is this plant that is hypothesized to be magical, but no prior Herbology documentation proves it to be. It is amazing really, this little plant that -” Neville paused, looking up at Harry and seeing a somewhat glazed expression, “- well, you probably don’t want to hear about all that. 

“Anyways, McGonagall heard I was back. She owled me last night and asked if I would be interested in helping out this year as an Assistant Professor -- getting my feet wet and all that since Professor Sprout is looking to retire next year and well, here I am,” Neville finished as he dished himself up some roast as well and dug in. 

“Well it is good to see you again, mate. We will have to catch up sometime. Fancy a drink at the Three Broomsticks some night?” Harry asked as he started to push his chair back in preparation to leave. 

Before Neville had a chance to respond though, a deep voice interrupted them as Snape pulled out the chair on the other side of Harry. “Ah, Mr. Longbottom. Are you gracing us with your presence for long?” 

Neville gaped at the older man, surprised by Snape’s sudden appearance and apparently still intimidated the man. Trying to break the sudden tension at Snape’s appearance, Harry spoke up. “Don’t mind him. His bark has become much worse than his bite. Don’t let him try to fool you.” 

Harry sent a reassuring smile to Neville with a quick smirk shot over to the older man before standing. “Leaving so soon, Potter?” Snape inquired in his trademark deep drawl. 

“Yup. I have a date with my floo. Don’t miss me too much.” Harry winked at Snape, internally cheering at the look that crossed Snape’s face and the light blush coloring the man’s cheeks at the comment. Not giving the man time to come up with a retort, he bid goodbye once more and escaped the Great Hall. 

Back in his rooms, he quickly changed into a pair of jeans and a well-worn jumper, putting away his books and class notes in the study. Casting a _tempus_ he noted he still had a few minutes before Draco would be calling, so he set got his kettle going for a cup of tea. Harry had just enough time to pull out his tea box and get a tea bag steeping when the floo chimed and Draco’s head was suddenly bobbing in the green flames. 

“How was your first day, Professor Potter?” Draco asked, an easy smile falling on the man’s full lips and Harry wanted nothing more in that moment to pull the man through the flames and snog him senseless. It had only been just shy of two days since he had last seen Draco and he already dearly missed the comforting presence of the other man, among other things. 

Settling onto the fluffy rug in front of the fire, Harry took a quick sip of his tea before setting it aside. “It went better than I anticipated. I didn’t bollocks up anything too bad and Snape even choked out a compliment after disillusioning himself to snoop in on my class of second years. Sneaky bastard,” Harry said with a carefree laugh. 

Draco choked on whatever he was drinking on his end, eyebrows shooting up to disappear under his fringe.“What the hell has happened to the man?! I never thought I would live to see the day Severus Snape freely gave the Boy Wonder a compliment. You didn’t _imperio_ him, did you?”Another laugh bubbled up from Harry at Draco’s reaction. “Kiss my ass, dear,” Harry replied, flipping the other man off for his remark. 

Draco just smirked in return. “Love you too.” 

Shaking his head, still smiling towards the flames, Harry grabbed his tea again and switched topics. “How has your studying been going?” Harry knew the other man was probably running himself ragged with his studies still, especially since Harry wasn’t there to police him. Draco was nothing if not a steadfastly determined man and Harry knew that Draco felt he had something to prove not only to himself, but to the wizarding world. 

“Well enough.” Draco shrugged, causing the flames to dance around with the action. “I’ll be happy when my exams are over. This revising is driving me nutters, but I suppose it is better than Anderson making me inventory in the potion storeroom again. That task is enough to drive the sanest wizard off his broom.” 

Harry felt himself frown as soon as Draco mentioned the other Healer’s name. “Anderson is still out to get you?” 

“Yes, unfortunately. I overheard him talking to Maribelle, one of the Medi-witches up in Spell Damage, that ‘the Death Eater scum wasn’t worth the air he breathed’. Wasn’t too hard to guess who they were talking about on staff,” Draco scoffed. “I always suspected it with the schedules and rotations Anderson gave me, but now I at least have it confirmed that he’d prefer me rotting in Azkaban or more preferably dead.” 

Harry felt his blood boil, just like it did every time that Draco let slip that Healer Anderson was making his life miserable. The other man tried to pretend that it didn’t bother him, but Harry could see past the pretenses and see the hurt flash across Draco’s features. But Harry had long given up threatening to use his fame to get slimy man sacked as Draco would turn him down time and time again and Harry was not dumb enough to bring the blonde’s wrath down upon himself by going behind Draco’s back. 

It still upset Harry though to hear about these incidents. Draco had worked so hard to leave his past behind him since the war. Not only had he donated a large chunk of the Malfoy fortune to help with rebuilding efforts after taking over the Malfoy Lordship from Lucius, part of the older Malfoy’s punishment, but Draco had donated his time. He had quickly shed the Malfoy air of superiority and got his hands dirty, helping physically rebuild local businesses, homes and even Hogwarts and then volunteering at St. Mungo’s for anything he could assist with, which started him on his current path to becoming a Healer. 

Draco had changed. Harry had watched it happen before his eyes and he was so proud of the man that Draco had fought to become. He just wished more people could see it instead of still lapsing into old prejudices, not being able to see past a few bad choices made by a young, terrified boy. 

Draco’s voice pulled Harry back to the present. “I’m still in Healer Blackshaw’s good graces, so that’s all that matters,” speaking of the aged Healer he was studying under. Draco’s face then turned in the flames, looking off at something on his end, but what Harry wasn’t sure. “Look, I should get going,” Draco sighed, his focus coming back to Harry. “It’s getting late and I have more studying to do.” 

Harry nodded in understanding. “Yeah, I should too. I need to check my notes for class tomorrow.” 

“Look at you being all prepared. I thought you were a Gryffindor, love. I didn’t know you knew the meaning of being prepared.” Even through the flames Harry could see the playful glint in the other man’s eyes and the underlying pride and pure love Draco had for Harry. That look did funny things to Harry’s insides and made his cheeks rapidly flush. 

“Shove off,” Harry shot back with another smile. “Love you, idiot.” 

Draco let out a laugh that Harry didn’t think he could ever tire of, grateful the man had left the cold Malfoy mask behind him years ago. “Love you too, Potter. We will talk longer next time, I promise.” With that, Draco’s head disappeared from the flames and they returned to their normal warm glow. 

Leaning back with his arms supporting him, Harry took a moment to just think. It was moments like this, just the simple day-to-day moments that most would overlook as insignificant, that Harry loved the most. If someone would have asked him back in school if we would ever picture himself in this moment, overwhelmed with love for Draco just after a simple conversation, he would have insisted they needed to see a Mind Healer immediately. But here he was, full of that warm fuzzy feeling that comes from simply loving another person and being loved unconditionally in return. 

Harry let his mind wander for just a few moments more before dragging himself off the floor and into his study.

**~.~**

September soon bled into October as Harry found a steady rhythm with his day to day activities. As the days worn on, he came to realize he hated marking essays just as much, if not more, as he hated writing them as a student. A necessary evil, as Minerva called them, especially for a theory course that had little other grading opportunities. But that didn’t mean Harry couldn’t grumble through them every evening.

Shrugging into his winter cloak and looping a warm, gray scarf around his neck, he left his quarters and headed down to the quad. Today was the first Hogsmeade weekend that Harry was chaperoning and he had the pleasure of chaperoning with Snape of all people. Not that Harry minded of course and he sensed that Snape didn’t actually mind either as much as he tried to deny it.

Snape was already in the quad waiting. “Punctual as ever, Potter." 

“I’m not even late, Snape,” Harry countered, pointing to the giant clock above them. “The students were scheduled to leave until 10 and it is three minutes to. You’re just impatient.” 

Snape didn’t respond to Harry and instead announced to the students milling about that they were free to leave and thus began the mass exodus of Hogwarts students, Harry and Snape following behind. The pair walked slowly down to the village, Snape displaying a practice vigilance as he scanned the students ahead of them. “How are the students fairing in Defense?” Harry asked, breaking the silence after some time. He hadn’t had a chance to sit in on Snape’s classes yet since they overlapped with his own course time, but he was curious how the students were doing. 

“Surprisingly well and I do suppose I would be remiss if I did not thank you for your efforts,” Snape said, turning his head momentarily to look at Harry before going back to watch the students ahead of them. “They appear to be more prepared for their lessons than I have seen throughout my last two years of teaching the course. I daresay that more focused theory courses would benefit other disciplines as well, particularly potions. Maybe less students would be prone to blowing themselves up if they had the deeper understanding of the ingredients and chemical reactions than what I admittedly would have had the patience to give.” 

“Good to hear,” Harry responded with a smug smile tugging at his lips. 

By this time, they had made it down to the village and were nearing the Three Broomsticks when one of the older Ravenclaw students flagged down Snape. The pair started to head towards the student and Harry was just about to tell Snape that he was going to go off towards the Shrieking Shack to make sure no students were causing trouble, knowing the older man despised the place for good reason, when he felt a building of light energy, like someone was getting ready to cast a _protego_ or another protective charm somewhere behind them in the crowd. 

Harry had always been sensitive to the feel of magic, although it wasn’t until a few years ago that he actually realized what he had been sensing since he was eleven years old. The amount of building light magic seemed misplaced though in the middle of the small village street in the middle of the day and Harry started to turn around to seek out the source. In that same moment, but a moment too late, he sensed the building dark, violent magic nearby as well. Unable to search for both sources at once, Harry turned just quick enough to see a dark figure in the alley shadows, wand pointed directly at him and Snape. 

“Snape!” Harry shouted to warn the other man just as another voice rang out ' _Avada Kedavra_ '. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do apologize for the bit of a cliffhanger, but I didn't like ending it at any of my other possible points.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am blown away by the comments, kudos, bookmarks, and subscriptions. Thank you all so much for being simply amazing!
> 
> I do apologize for the delay in posting. I had been sick, then work got a bit crazy and then this chapter was just hard to get how I wanted it -- but I think I got it sorted out decently in the end. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Ringing. 

That was the first thing Harry became aware of through the darkness and haze that had settle over him -- a high-pitched ringing resounding in his head sounding like a flock of angry pixies. The second thing that Harry became aware of was a heavy weight against his back and a lump under him. He was alive though. Whatever had happened, he was alive because dying surely hadn’t felt like this before.

Disoriented, Harry tried desperately to remember what had happened but he could only get snippets, like when the television at the Dursley’s would fade in and out during particularly nasty rain storms.

Someone calling Snape’s name.

A wand.

Snape’s back.

A rainbow of swirling colors.

Blackness.

Everything then snapped into place as the fog suddenly cleared in his head, setting in a bone-deep panic. Someone had cursed them! Hell, not just any curse by a fucking _Avada Kedavra_! And yet, Harry was somehow still alive. Not that he hadn’t survived the curse before, but he knew his luck should only go so far.

Pushing that thought away -- he would evidently have time to theorize about that later -- Harry focused again. 

This time his thoughts focused on Snape, trying to remember what happened to the other man. No matter how hard he tried though, the last thing Harry could remember was his hand closing around Snape’s forearm in a vain attempt to pull him to safety, but he couldn’t be certain if he had succeeded.

Frustrated beyond measure, Harry tried to focus on his surrounding for a moment. He still had a heavy weight bearing down against his back. It was solid and did not feel like a body pining him down, so Harry didn’t believe that to be Snape. No, it felt too stiff, almost like heavy boards or something as equally sturdy. But how could that be? What actually happened?

Before Harry could delve farther into that thought though, he heard muffled voices, but he couldn’t make out any words. The voices continued at a near-constant hum until he felt the weight shift off his back as if whatever was pinning him down was being removed. 

Harry realized that is exactly what was happening as the weight fully left his back and he was able to take a deep lung-full of air. The voices clearer now, just slightly muffled by the continued ringing in his head were now discernible as a mixture of yelling that Harry couldn’t quite make out and clear sobbing.

Taking a chance to open his eyes, Harry snapped them shut again as he hissed in pain at the bright sunlight assaulting his vision, making his head spin viciously. Trying again, knowing he needed to understand what happened and find Snape, he opened his eyes again, this time slowly cracking them open to adjust to the daylight. Once they were fully opened, he was happy to find that his glasses were still on his face and intact. Thank Merlin for small favors.

Orienting himself now that he had the opportunity to look around, Harry realized he had been buried under the outer wall of the Three Broomsticks, judging by the gaping hole in the side of the building and the other boards and bricks scattered in heaps around him. 

Harry heard his name called and more screaming and more crying, but he couldn’t focus on any one sound. Several pops cut through the yelling and crying as Aurors arrived, clearly discernible with their red cloaks, splitting off into groups to do Merlin knows what. But that didn’t matter now as Harry looked below him and found black fabric covering the lump under him. 

_Snape!_ It just had to be Snape. Harry couldn’t remember anyone else being that close to him when shit hit the fan.

Pushing through the protesting of his body at simply having to move, Harry pushed himself up, careful to not put any further weight on the man below him and began to quickly shove away the smaller debris surrounding the pair. What felt like a lifetime later, Harry finally moved one last small broken board, his eyes instantly falling to Snape’s battered face.

Blood was running down the left side of the older man’s face from a gash along his hairline. “Snape!” Harry whispered loudly, hovering over the man to press the sleeve of his cloak against the gash in attempts to stem the bleeding. “Wake up, Snape! Please don’t be dead!”“Do cease your yelling, Potter,” Snape quietly growled out, followed by a long, pained groan. A pale hand materialized, hovered near the side of Snape’s head before unceremoniously falling to his chest.

Harry let out a rushed breath of pure relief as Snape’s eyes slowly blinked open. “Thank Merlin! Can you sit up?” Harry asked, quickly looking around to see if he had enough room to help the other man up into a better position. There wasn’t a lot of room, but Harry pushed a few more boards out of the way and helped as best he could get the other man upright. “How do you feel?” 

Snape let out another long pained groan at being vertical. Harry noticed that blood was still running down Snape’s face from the gash. “Bloody head wounds,” he muttered to himself as he grabbed Snape’s arm and pressed the fabric of the man’s sleeve against the wound in attempt stop the bleeding. “Keep pressure,” Harry instructed the other man, not willing to risk trying a healing spell with how worn out he felt. Knowing his luck, he would manage to cut off the man’s ear at best.

Surprisingly Snape didn’t argue. He just kept the fabric pressed tightly against his head, eyes slowly surveying the scene around them. “What happened?”

Before Harry could respond, a familiar voice cut through all the other noise surrounding them. “Harry! Mate!”

Turning, Harry saw a familiar shade of red towering about the other heads of the crowd. “Ron!” he shouted, standing up from his post in front of Snape and taking a few quick steps towards his friend before swaying violently on his feet, his sense of balance momentarily shot. 

Ron was in front of Harry in an instant, steadying Harry with a firm grip to his shoulders, eyes wide as he looked his best friend over. “What the bloody hell happened?”

“I don’t really know. One minute we were walking, ready to split off on our patrols around the village and the next thing I know I’m feeling a massive build of magic -- light and dark. I didn’t have much time, but I saw someone off in the alley -” Harry paused, pointing a shaky finger off to the other side of the street, “- pointing his wand at Snape. The dark magic was coming off him in waves and before I knew it, he cast the fucking killing curse!” The memory caused a violent shiver to run through his body at how close both men had come to dying today. “How are we still alive?” he whispered out in disbelief as the chain of events really sunk in.

In a somewhat rare display of brotherly affection between the pair, Ron pulled Harry into a tight embrace. “I don’t know, mate, but I’m happy you still are. We can figure out the rest later.”

“How?” Harry muttered to himself again as he returned Ron’s fierce hug.

Pulling back, Ron looked Harry over once more with a critical eye, noticing the myriad of small cuts and angry bruises forming along his friend’s face and neck before disappearing under his shirt. “Look, you need to go get checked out.”

“I’m fine,” Harry replied automatically, but deep down he knew he was anything but fine. 

“Like hell you are! Snape’s still bleeding -” Ron let his eyes dart to the man still sitting on the ground behind Harry, “- and you both somehow survived the bloody killing curse! I think that last part constitutes as not being ‘fine’. And until we know who tried to kill you or why, it isn’t safe to stay out in the open like this.”

“What about the students?” Harry feebly argued.

“Baxter, Jones and myself will round everyone up and babysit them until McGonagall or any of the other professors get here to bring everyone back to the castle,” Ron replied very matter-of-factly, switching into Auror-mode. Before Harry had time to even form a response, Ron conjured his patronus and sent the silver terrier off with a message to the Headmistress. “Just go,” the red-head urged, placing his hands on Harry’s shoulders again so he could look his friend directly in the eye. “We’ve got this. Just get yourself and Snape to Pomfrey before someone tries to cart either of you off to St. Mungo’s. I know that is the last place either of you would like to end up right about now.”

Glancing over to where Snape sat, back against the rubble the pair had been buried under and dark eyes glaring at the Auror trying trying to check him over, Harry sighed in defeat knowing that Ron was right. “Alright. Do me a favor though. Don’t let Hermione tell Draco,” Harry requested quietly, knowing Ron would tell Hermione about the events of the day as soon as possible seeing as Harry, curses and near-death experiences were all involved. “He has enough to worry about right now. I’ll floo him tonight once everything is settled.”

Ron looked at Harry again, clearly weighing his options and knowing that Draco really should be notified -- the pair were as good as bonded if you asked him -- but in the end giving in to his best friend’s wishes. “Sure thing. But I’m blaming you if he comes knocking down my floo threatening to hex my bollocks off because he wasn’t notified since he _is_ your emergency contact. You better hope he is holed up at home today with the ‘Do Not Disturb’ wards up because Merlin knows I won’t be able to stop the gossip comet on this with as many witness are standing around and I can only hold Hermione off for so long.”

Nodding in agreement, Harry turned and made it slowly over to Snape, his body aching with every step. 

“You will get that wand out of my face or you find out just how adept I am at wandless magic. Do. Not. Tempt. Me.” Harry heard Snape snarl out as he finally made it back to the man’s side. 

The young Auror attempted to argue back, but Harry just shook his head at the man. “Trust him, believe me. Go find Auror Weasley. I got him,” Harry cocked his head in Snape’s direction, earning him an icy stare. 

“I do not need rescuing, Mr. Potter.”

“Of that, I am more than aware,” Harry replied, a genuine smile flitting across his lips for the first time since this ordeal began as he slowly bent to crouch beside the grouchy man. “I wasn’t rescuing you. I was rescuing him. I am well aware of your skills -- both wandless magic and curses of, let’s say, questionable origin. There has been enough drama and mayhem for one day, we don’t need you adding to it. Anyways, we should get back to the castle.”

“I don’t need a babysitter either,” Snape grumbled out like a petulant child.“Again, I’m aware. But I will have Ron after my arse if I don’t leave soon and Minerva will have my head if I don’t drag you with me. So we are going back together.” With a small shrug, Harry added, “Plus, Ron said they hadn’t caught the guy yet, so we aren’t exactly safe here.”

Snape’s dark stare held Harry in place, his voice a deadly calm as he spoke. “Potter, I was a Death Eater and a spy for nearly as long as you have been alive. Targets on my back are nothing new.”

“Just humor me, please? Your head is still bleeding and I would prefer if my co-Professor -” Harry smirked as Snape’s eye twitched at that statement, “- did not perish of blood loss.”

With a snarl that would frighten any first year, Snape growled out a murderous sounding, “Fine.” 

Knowing Snape could change his mind at any minute, Harry stood up, the blood rushing through his legs and held his hand out for Snape. The other man eyed it suspiciously and didn’t make any move to grab it. Instead, Snape attempted to pull himself up alone, but only made it a few inches off the ground where he had been sitting before a wave of dizziness hit him hard, knocking him back down.

Moving quickly, Harry took a step closer to the man to see if he was alright, but a pale hand stopped him from getting closer. “Don’t,” Snape snarled out, his head resting in his hands. “Just give me your damn hand.”

Harry reached out again and this time Snape slide his hand into Harry’s outstretched one, a strange tingle passing between the two men at the contact. Harry paid no mind to the sensation, attributing it to whatever magical force kept them two of them alive when in any other magical reality they should be dead. Instead, he focused on using the little energy he still had in pulling Snape to his feet and supporting the other man and he regained his equilibrium. 

With a glance at the older man, Harry asked, “Ready?” Snape just nodded curtly in return, but his hand tightened almost imperceptibly in Harry’s own. Before Harry and Snape could make their escape though, Minerva _popped_ into existence directly in front of the pair. 

At first, the woman was silent, eyeing the pair with a practiced eye. Soon however, her stony features cracked and her face flooded with warmth as relief washed over her at seeing the two men still relatively in one piece. “Thank the Gods you are both alright!” 

Harry could swear he saw a shine in the woman’s eyes as if she were holding back tears. He didn’t have long to study them though because Minerva quickly pulled Harry into a tight, motherly hug. The gesture made Harry drop Snape’s hand as he moved to press it lightly to the woman’s back, trying to give her some sense of comfort.

With one last squeeze, Minerva pulled back and raised her hand to gently pat Harry’s cheek as if to reassure herself yet again that the boy was still here. Once she was satisfied with Harry, she turned to Snape and to Harry’s delight, the woman pulled Snape into the same tight hug. The other man’s eyes went wide at the contact, but he made the same small gesture as Harry had, gently patting the woman’s back as she held on tightly.

“Don’t you ever scare me like that again,” she scolded after she pulled away and set her steely gaze on the pair again. “I cannot even begin to tell you the things that went through my mind when Mr. Weasley’s patronus came charging into my office telling me that there had been an incident with two professors in Hogsmeade and that several of the Aurors were watching the children. What in Merlin’s name happened?”

Before Harry had a chance to dive into the details a second time in less than an hour, Ron appeared at their side. “Headmistress,” he greeted with a slight nod of his head.

Minerva cast a quick glance at the red-head, nodding in return. “Mr. Weasley.” However, her gaze quickly returned to Harry and Snape. “Will someone tell me what happened.”

Ron chimed in again. “I will fill you in with all the details that I know in a moment, Headmistress. The short version is someone sent the killing curse at them. We are still trying to work out all the details.”

Minerva blanched at the information. It took her several moments to regain her composure. Clearing her throat and looking directly at Harry, knowing the young man was more apt to listen to her, she said sternly, “Harry, Mimsy will be taking you and Severus directly to the infirmary. You both will let Poppy do a complete check of you both and you will not leave until I have come back to check on you both myself. Do you understand me?”

With a small nod, Harry quietly replied, “Yes ma’am.” He knew there was no point to argue with the woman.

“Severus?” she asked, glancing over at the other man. All she got in response was an cold obsidian glare. “Good. Mimsy,” she called and a moment later an elf with eyes and ears too big for her small head appeared. Minerva gave one last hard look at the two men, instilling fear deep in their bones of her wrath should they disobey her orders. “Please escort both Professor Potter and Professor Snape to the infirmary.”

“Yesses Headmistress,” the elf replied, nodding wildly at the Headmistress and then grasped both men’s hands tightly. “Wees be going now.” With that, the trio disappeared with the faintest of _pops_.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter seriously did not want to be written -- to the point that I rewrote parts of it more times than I really care to admit. So I apologize for the epic delay in updating, but I wanted to get the chapter to a point that I was mostly satisfied with. Hopefully the scenes came out well enough. 
> 
> We are almost to the point where I can start speeding things up!
> 
> Happy reading!

A blink later, the two men found themselves standing in the middle of the infirmary floor. The room swam before Harry’s eyes at the sudden change of location, but he stayed upright and his stomach stayed where it was despite the several flips that it did. Looking over to Snape though, he wasn’t fairing any better. Worse actually, if the green tinge to his skin and the death grip he had on Harry’s hand was any indication.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Poppy asked loudly, clearly startled by the men’s sudden appearance in her quiet ward as she appeared in the doorway to her office. Before Harry had chance even open his mouth in response though, Snape swayed violently on his feet and suddenly pitched forward. It took every ounce of strength that Harry still had to drop the man’s hand and instead pull Snape into a vice grip against his chest, preventing the man’s face from becoming acquainted with the hard stone floor beneath them. Harry struggled to hold the man upright; Snape was heavier than he looked. “Oh dear!” Poppy squeaked out as she quickly made her way over to the pair. “Put him down over here, Harry,” motioning to the nearest bed.

Harry did as requested, being as gentle as possible as he maneuvered the dead weight that was Snape in his passed out state. He did want to cause any more damage to the man than had already been inflicted that day. With a final grunt, Harry deposited Snape fully onto the infirmary bed before he stumbled backwards from the effort, the back of his legs hitting the bed behind him and causing Harry to sink heavily down onto the mattress, his balance shot. 

Poppy was standing next to Snape’s bed, but her eyes were glued to Harry as he sat slumped forward on his bed, elbows on knees. “What happened, Harry?” she asked with an urgent, no-nonsense edge to her voice. “I do not want to risk running any diagnostics on either of you just yet until I know what I’m dealing with.”

Harry knew Poppy spoke the truth. Without an even basic knowledge of the situation, especially potential magically inflicted injuries, there was always a risk of magical backlash where more harm than good would be done even with standard diagnostic and healing spells. It wasn’t always feasible to get the story first, but when the opportunity presented itself, any healer worth one’s salt would be out of their mind to pass it up. 

Harry ran his fingers through his hair before he quietly responded. “Someone tried to kill us.” His fingers pulled at the clumps of his hair in frustration before continuing just as quietly. “I don’t know who or why or if they were aiming for Snape or me or both of us. All I know is that someone aimed the killing curse at us.” Poppy’s eyes went wide, her mouth falling slightly open in shock at Harry’s explanation. However, his brief answer was enough for her to jump into action, her wand weaving a complicated pattern of spells glowing a warm, pale yellow over the passed out man as a piece of parchment hung in the air recording results for whatever scans she was running. 

As Poppy continued her diagnostics, Snape’s eyes fluttered open at the same time a deep, pained moan escaped his lips. “Good to see you awake, Severus,” Poppy commented as she quickly summoned a blood replenishing potion, pressing it into Snape’s limp hand. “Drink.”

With no argument, Snape downed the potion, albeit moving slowly to accomplish the task. As the last drop passed the man’s lips, Poppy plucked the empty vial from his hand, setting it on the bedside table before working on patching up the gash on his head now that the bleeding had finally stopped. It was several minutes more before she was satisfied that Snape was in no danger of immediate peril or death. 

“You’ll live,” she proclaimed. “Although don’t you even think about moving a muscle, Severus. You lost quite a bit of blood from that head wound and until I’m satisfied that you are as in best possible health given the circumstances, you are staying put.” She leveled a hard glare at the man before turning her attention to Harry. “Lay back, Harry dear.” He complied without complaint, too tired to put up any sort of fight even if he had wanted to, settling himself against the pillows.

Bringing her wand around, she began the same scans over Harry with a practiced focus. He closed his eyes as the gentle warmth of the magic soaked comfortingly into his skin. “How are either of you alive?” she eventually ask in astonishment, dropping her wand arm down once the scans finished, her eyes flicking between both men as the implication of Harry’s prior words came back to her.

Harry opened his eyes and looked up at the woman through the fringe of hair falling over his face. “I have no clue. Everything is a blur in my head after I heard the spell. All I -”

“We don’t know much yet, Poppy, but there are a few students that I plan to question,” Minerva interrupted, hear voice carrying through the large room as she swept through the infirmary doors, her facial features hard as she surveyed the scene in front of her.

“You don’t think one of the students did this, do you?” 

Minerva’s face softened at Harry’s question as she neared the small group, although her posture retained a stiffness born of the intense stress of the last few hours. “No, no. I don’t suspect any of our students had anything to do with this. I just would like to understand the series of events through their eyes. How are you feeling, dear?” eyeing Harry closely as she stood at the end of his bed, hands grasping the white footboard as she watched the younger man closely.

Harry felt a small smile cross his lips at Minerva’s concern. “Fine. Better than Snape I’d wager,” he replied, casting a quick glance to the other bed and earning an steely glare that could rival a basilisk’s in return.

“I’m perfectly fine, Potter,” Snape ground out, holding his glare. Harry snorted in response, taking note of the man’s still paler-than-normal complexion.

With a similar skepticism, Minerva arched her brow at the grumpy man and instead directed her attention to the mediwitch that stood between the two beds. “Poppy, how are they?”

“They appear to be in perfect health considering -” her voice dying off as the _‘they should dead right now’_ was left unsaid. “Severus’ head wound is being a bit troublesome, but the bleeding has all but stopped. Both men will be sore for a while, but I don’t see a reason to hold them much longer. I don’t think I can do much more for them.”

With a nod of her head, satisfied with Poppy’s response, Minerva directed her attention back to the two men laying on the infirmary beds, face grim. “Now, I would prefer to order you both to return to your quarters and rest for the remainder of the weekend -- no arguments. However, we don’t have the luxury of time right now. We need to sort out the events of today sooner rather than later to ensure the safety of not only the students, but you two as well. I refuse to fathom if something worse were to happen to either of you.” An emotion flashed across Minerva’s face, but Harry couldn’t decide if it was pain or worry, but he warmed at the feeling of being cared about. “Anyway, please come to my office as soon as Poppy discharges you.”

“Of course, Minerva,” Harry replied, wanting to sort everything out as soon as possible as well. Snape echoed his sentiments just a moment after. 

“I’ll walk you out. You two stay put.” Poppy eyed both men. “We need to discuss a few more things before I am ready to let you out of my sight.” With that, Minerva and Poppy headed towards the door, heads together, their quiet voices fading with each step away from Harry and Severus, leaving the pair alone.

Snape’s deep baritone, edged in scorn, cut through the relative silence that had fallen around them. “Somehow this is your fault.”

“My -?” Harry choked out, staring over at the other man, certain he must of lost his mind if Snape thought Harry could have anything to do with today’s events. 

“Yes Potter, things always seem to end up being your fault.”

Fortunately, Poppy returned before Harry could argue further, so he pushed Snape’s comment to the side and focused on what Poppy was saying as she handed over several potion vials, more than ready to be out of the infirmary.

**~.~**

Snape apparently had lost his mind as he continued to side-eye Harry in suspicion as the pair waited for the griffin to allow them access up to the Headmistress’ office. “I had nothing to do with the attack, Snape,” Harry hissed out, fed up with just about everything at that point. Snape just huffed in response, although he did lay up on the glaring, so Harry considered that a win for now.

Soon they were standing before a set of heavy wooden doors, Harry knocking twice. Moments later the doors swung open, bathing the men in a warm light from the room. “Harry, Severus, please come in,” Minerva greeted, stepping out of the way as she ushered the two men into the Headmistress’ office. With a gentle flick of her wand, dark cloths draped over the portraits surrounding the room. Harry eyed the woman curiously. “There are too many unknowns at this time and I am quite tired of the nosiness of my predecessors. Tea?” Both men nodded.

Not one to mince words, Minerva continued as handed over the cups. “Now, I will tell you what I know after talking to Mr. Weasley and then I would like you to both be here when we meet with one of the students. I had already talked to Mr. Simon’s myself earlier today, but he wasn’t able to really provide much insight outside of what we already knew.

“The - _perpetrator_ \- is still unknown. So far the Aurors have not found anyone that can give an adequate description of the individual.” Her face grim with the admittance.

_No one could give a description?_ It astonished Harry that with as many people as were milling about Hogsmeade, no one saw the person. “What about a magical trace? I felt the Dark magic. There had to be some trace of it left,” the frustration clearly evident in his voice.

Minerva’s mouth drew into a tight line. “The Aurors tried that, Harry. However, the magic was masked. They are trying to separate the mask from the underlying magical threads, but it seems the mask was more complex than anyone on site had ever seen, distorting the signature beyond any sort of recognition. It will take patience and time if they hope to unravel it.

“Right now though, we are going to leave the dirty work, as the Muggles say, to the Aurors, although I want you both to stay vigilant. There are still too many unanswered questions, although I do feel that our students and school are safe at this time.” Minerva paused a moment, taking a deep, steadying breath before continuing, “Our bigger issue right now is figuring out what happened. I am more relieved than either of you can imagine that you are not, at this moment, dead. However, with events like this, the unknown of how you survived an attack like that is almost as worrisome as the actual attack itself. With the level of magic hanging around Hogsmeade after the attack and the recollections of the events I have heard so far, I’m a bit concerned that neither of you are actually displaying any -- unusual -- side-effects.” Minerva’s words echoed Harry’s own concerns that had taken up residence in his mind since he pulled himself for the pile of rubble hours earlier.

“So if you are both ready, I would like to bring the student in. ” Both men nodded in assent. “Very well. Mimsy,” Minerva called out and a moment later the house elf popped into existence. “Please alert Mr. Eliason -” _the Slytherin Prefect_ , Harry thought, if he remembered correctly, “- that we are ready for them.”

The small elf nodded quickly once. “Yesses, Headmistress,” she squeaked before disappear with another _pop_.

After Mimsy’s departure, the room fell into relative silence, with only the occasional clink as the tea cups were picked up and set back down again. What felt like an hour later, although was probably only about five to ten minutes, a knock at the door echoed around the room, pulling the three from their own thoughts. Minerva got up and opened the door. Her voice was soft, but Harry heard the quiet, “Thank you, Mr. Eliason,” that Minerva that gave out. Harry looked up from his cup then, focusing on newcomer, intrigued to see who it was.

The young girl was crying softly as Minerva ushered her into her office, staring at her feet that scuffled along the stone floor. She paused for a moment as the door shut behind her before lifting her head just enough to look around the room, her eyes landing on Harry and going wide before she sobbed out a broken, “Professor Potter!” 

She ran forward as soon as the words were past her lips, falling into Harry’s lap and crying harder into his chest. “Shh, shh, Novalee. It’s alright,” Harry softly spoke to the girl, having recognized her the moment she looked up. He held her closely, rubbing her back in gentle slow circles, offering what little comfort he could provide to the young, distressed girl as he looked between Minerva and Snape’s solemn faces.

The room was quiet for a long time aside from Novalee’s cries only disrupted by the occasional hiccup from the girl and Harry’s soft shushes. “You almost d-died. Oh Merlin, you - you almost died.” Her sobbing grew louder as she pushed out the words, burying her face into Harry’s jumper. 

“But I didn’t. Hey, look at me.” Harry paused, gently pulling Novalee away from his chest so that she could see him as he continued, although her hands still held tightly to his shirt. “I’m still here. Professor Snape is still here,” he said, letting his eye momentarily flick the older man in other chair before focusing back on Novalee with a warm smile. “What do you remember?”

“I - I -” Novalee started, her eyes furiously blinking away the tears as her breath caught on her words.

Harry let his thumbs gently rub the tops of the girl’s shoulders. “It is alright. We just want to know what you saw. What happened?”

“I tried to save you!” The volume of her words echoed off the stone walls, startling the adults. “I tried to cast a _Protego_ , but I think I me-messed it up,” she all but whispered the last part, dropping her head to her hands and crying harder. “It didn’t look r-r-right; the sh-shield. I-I remember in class, when Pro-professor Snape cast the _Pro-protego_ charm in our less-sson that it was - was like this translucent sil-silvery blue. Almost - almost like the color of a faded pa-patronus. But m-m-mine didn’t look like that.” A look of panic at the admittance flashed across her face. “Mine was more white, with flashes and swirls of other colors. Like a - like a rainbow.” 

Turning towards Snape briefly, Harry quirked an eyebrow in question. “Have you ever seen a shield spell look like that?”

Snape was quick to respond with a shake of his head and a blunt, “No.”

Turning back to Novalee, Harry gently prodded, “What else do you remember?”

Novalee’s face took on a look of frustration then, creases forming as her brows drew together. “I don’t know what happened. My shield was there and then it wasn’t. I thought that it...that it didn’t work because it w-wasn’t there as a shield anymore.” Her voice grew distraught again as she continued talking. “It turned into ribbons. So many colored ribbons that were swirling around you. And then - then it - then you - EXPLODED!” Novalee sobbed out, burying her face tight against Harry’s chest once more.

“Hey, look at me please?” Harry asked, but Novalee just shook her head and kept her face firmly planted against his chest, her tears soaking through his jumper. “Professor Snape and I are fine. I promise. We didn’t explode, the magic did.” The girl could only hiccup around her sobs in response.

Trying a different approach, Harry pulled the girl gently away from his chest, laying his hands on the tops of her shoulders to hold her steady. Her breathing was still erratic as the tears continued to stream down her cheeks. “Novalee, just breath. Please breathe for me,” Harry pleaded softly, taking a deep breath, holding it for several beats and then finally letting it out in a long exhale. He repeated the action several times until Novalee’s breathing matched his as her tears lessened to just a glassy sheen in her eyes. “Good,” Harry finally breathed out.

Continuing to focus solely on the young girl in his lap, Harry spoke as softly and reassuringly as possible. “Would you be willing to give us your memory so that we can look at it a bit closer, Novalee? That way we can see what all happened to help make sense of things.” She nodded in assent without hesitation, although a small tear escaped down her cheek. 

Harry smiled at the girl, warm and comforting. Keeping his voice soft still, as if he were speaking to a scared animal, he continued, “Thank you. Do you mind if I capture the memory for you? It won’t hurt a bit.” She nodded again. 

“Good. Close your eyes.” Novalee complied and Harry finally shifted his focus momentarily from the girl in his lap to the two other occupants of the room. Both Minerva and Snape were watching Harry closely, but remained acutely silent. With a quick nod of her head, Minerva gestured for Harry to continue as Snape silently summoned an empty vial from the shelving along the wall. “Now Novalee, I want you to think of this afternoon starting when you first got down to Hogsmeade.” 

At that, Novalee let out a small squeak, her lip trembling again, but Harry was quick to reassure her before she could start panicking all over again. “You’re doing perfect. Now you’re going to feel a light touch of my wand to your temple just for a moment as I grab that memory.” He did just that, making sure to be as gentle as possible so Novalee wouldn’t even feel the pull of the memory; this process could be excruciating if not performed properly. Soon shimmering blue wisps were fluttering at the tip of his wand, which he moved into the empty vial that Snape silently held out.

“You’re done, Novalee. Go ahead to open your eyes.” Bright blue eyes blink open at Harry. “You did perfect,” he praised, smiling widely, receiving a tentative smile in return.

Snape cleared his throat. “Thank you, Ms. Bishop, for your assistance.” he said, speaking for only the second time since Novalee entered the room, looking at the young girl still sitting in Harry’s lap. Novalee looked up wide-eyed, startled as if she forgot others were in the room.

“I agree with Professor Snape. You have done very well today, Ms. Bishop,” Minerva added in a warm, motherly tone. “You are free to head back to your common room now,” nodding towards the door at the back of the room.Novalee didn’t make a move though, frozen where she was on Harry’s lap as she looked at the other occupants of the room. “Go on,” Harry urged with a gentle touch to the girl’s shoulder. “You’ve had an eventful day. Go get some rest.”

“O-o-okay,” she stammered out, slowly sliding off of his lap and taking a few steps towards the door. Pausing for a moment, Novalee looked around the room once more, here eyes going from Minerva to Snape and finally back to Harry. “I-I’m glad that you both are okay,” she finally said, voice hoarse, before she hurriedly made her way out the door.

The door closed with a solid thud in Novalee’s wake, leaving the three adults alone. Harry rubbed his hands over his face, falling back into the cushion of the chair behind him. “Well that was interesting.”

Minerva let out a quiet laugh at that, breaking the tension that hung heavy in the room. “You handled the situation very well, Harry. It is clear that Ms. Bishop is fond of you.”

“Yeah, she’s a good kid. Brilliant really. She’s top of my class for the second years.” Harry smiled. “So what now?”

It was Snape that spoke up. “Now, I think we need to look at the memory. I have never heard of a shield react the way that Ms. Bishop described. That is just not how standard shields function.”

“I agree,” Minerva cut in, taking the vial with the memory from Snape and walking over to the pensieve in the corner of the room. She poured the blue wisps of memory into the bowl before looking back up. “Harry, Severus, shall we?” The two men nodded, getting up from their chairs and walking over to the Headmistress. A moment later, all three were diving into the memory before them.

**~.~**

As the trio entered the memory, they found themselves on the street crowded with Hogwarts students and watched as Novalee paused for a moment among the crowd, her eyes flipping between Honeydukes and the new Barlow’s Books and Baubles as if she was trying to decide where to go first. Harry and Snape’s backs were clearly visible a short ways ahead in the street, nearing the Three Broom Sticks.

The group watched as Novalee apparently made of up her mind and took a few steps toward the colorful storefront of Barlow’s before stopping in her tracks suddenly. The girl’s posture went rigid as her head whipped to the left, her focus going towards the dark alley that Harry could recall from his own memory.

Several things then happened at once. 

From their position in the memory, they watched as memory-Harry began to react to the building magic, looking off to the left before reaching for Snape, his hand grasping the man’s left arm tightly, while they could see the person hidden in the shadows raising their wand, although their face was obscured by their hood. Barely a beat later, flashes of color danced before them -- the acid green color of the killing curse coming from the shadows, a silvery-blue of a protego shooting out of a seventh year’s wand -- Oliver Simon if Harry was remembering his students correct -- that had apparently seen what was happening as well and the opalescent blast of whatever magic Novalee conjured.

The _protego_ had surrounded Harry and Snape in a protective bubble a split second before the other two spells, but would be no match for the killing curse streaking through the air. It was only pure luck that Novalee’s spell, whatever it was, surrounded Harry and Snape the same moment as the killing curse landed on its mark.

The trio held their breath as the memory continued to unfold before them. The moment that Novalee’s spell and the killing curse collided, it was as if everything stood still, frozen in time. Novalee’s spell surrounded the pair in a bubble, much like a standard shield, but unlike a standard shield the bubble was opaque, obscuring Harry and Snape from view. 

As the killing curse was absorbed, the bubble flashed in shades of green, going from dark to light before the bubble pulsed once and broke apart around Harry and Snape. The bubble didn’t just dissolve away though. Instead, just as Novalee had mentioned earlier, it split into hundreds of ribbons in a rainbow of colors that swirled quickly around the two men, starting out farther from their bodies before swirling closer and closer until at the last moment the ribbons danced over them like silk flowing over the dips and curves of their bodies. It was then that the ribbons of magic dissolved straight into both men followed by a powerful burst of something - some sort magical force - centered in the pair. 

This blast pulsed outwards, shattering the side wall of the Three Broom Sticks, burying Harry and Snape under the debris, and knocking down students and other patrons throughout the street with the shockwave. Novalee fell back at the force as well, a scream escaping her lips as all hell broke loose in the street.

It was then that the memory dissolved around Minerva, Snape and Harry, depositing them back in the Headmistress’ office, the silence of the room deafening after the chaos of the memory. Harry looked around, eyes searching Minerva’s and Snape’s faces, for what he wasn’t certain. All Harry knew is he felt disoriented, seeing the events of the day from the outside perspective as they fell into place with his own memory of the day, making him realize just how bad things were. 

In all honesty, the memory stirred more questions than answered for Harry, his mind whirling as he tried and failed to put the pieces together. Casting a glance to Snape to see how he was fairing, Harry noted the slight pinch of the man’s lips, which he had come to associate with Snape’s concentration face. “You have that look, Snape. What are you thinking?”

“I -” Snape paused, his dark brow furrowing etching a deep line in his skin, “- I have never seen a spell react that way. Honestly, I’ve never seen magic look like that.” The bewilderment was clear in Snape’s voice, a tone that neither other occupant in the room could ever recall hearing before.

Minerva spoke up this time. “Did you hear the incantation, Severus?”

“Yes. She said _progeno_ , which makes sense if she were going for a _protego_ charm and misspoke in the moment. But that isn’t an incantation I have ever heard before and based on the how the spell reacted, that was new magic.” Snape shook his head, letting his astonishment clearly settle in his facial features. “Ms. Bishop will be a force to be reckoned with if she is creating new spells that powerful as a second year.”

That comment hung heavy in the air until Minerva leveled a steady gaze at both men. “Powerful indeed, but do either of you have any thoughts on how neither of you are dead right now?” she asked bluntly.

This time Harry cut in, his mind racing through all the different tidbits of information spurred on by Snape’s comments. “It had to be her intent, but what that was, I’m not certain. I mean, we know Novalee was intending to cast a _protego_ from what she told us, so part of the intent had to be protecting Snape and I.” He paused, shaking his head briefly hoping the action would magically slot everything into place in his head but knowing there was no chance of that. “But something else had to be there too since any shield spell I have ever heard of before is worthless against the killing curse -- and that one clearly was anything but,” his hand flipping between Snape and himself as proof of the statement.

Silence descended on the room once more as each person retreated into their own thoughts before Snape finally spoke again, his deep baritone echoing off the walls. “I think we will need to speak to Ms. Bishop again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I've mentioned before, but it deserves to be mentioned again and shouted from rooftops, you are all the best! Thank you for taking a chance on this story and sticking with me so far :D


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...I suck at updating in a timely manner. I know this. I accept this. I wish I could say I will do better, but I would hate to lie to anyone. Because of that, please just accept my humble apologies for the delay and eternal gratitude if you are still here with me.
> 
> I also suck at maintaining verb tenses. I apologize for that too. 
> 
> HOWEVER, because it's been so long since my last update, I have an extra long update this time around. It will be broken in two parts though -- this shorter chapter and then I will add the next chapter tonight or tomorrow morning when I finalize the last edits (I'm still trying to catch those pesky verb tenses...). Hopefully these chapters aren't too bad. I'm still not completely happy with them, but it is what it is at this point.
> 
> Alright, on we go...

Magic tickled against Harry’s palm as he waited for the wards to recognize him and the door of his chambers to swing open. Harry was exhausted, the events of the day weighing heavy in his bones and sore to the point that even his hair hurt, the deep ache having steadily increased throughout the evening, his prior pain potions from Poppy long worn off.

While he had rewatched the memory several more times with Snape and Minerva, trying to find any possible clues hiding in the dim corners of the memory, they all came up empty each time. It was frustrating to say the least.

At this point though, all Harry wanted to do was get out of his clothes that still displayed dirt and flecks of debris as proof of the day’s events, down a vat of pain potion (or a more reasonable vial), and fall into his bed for the foreseeable future -- the rest could wait until the morning. 

As the door noiselessly closed behind him, Harry toed off his boots and hung up his outer cloak on the hook on autopilot. His fingers found their way behind his glasses to rub at his tired eyes as Harry took two unsteady steps forward before stopping dead in his tracks, gaze glued to the blond-hair-turned-golden in the dancing firelight and the grey eyes pinning him in place. 

“D-Draco?” Harry licked his lips nervously. “What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice shaking slightly with nerves or exhaustion or a combination of the two as he watched his boyfriend carefully. Draco didn’t move though. Or speak. He just sat stony-still in the armchair, eyes frighteningly narrowed, his face giving nothing away.

The silence of the room was nearly suffocating, wreaking havoc on Harry’s already shot nerves. He was near the point of crumpling to the floor, his legs shaking so hard that they could barely hold Harry vertical when Draco finally spoke, tone eerily even. “Harry.” 

It was if Harry’s name passing his lips was the last fissure needed to break the dam holding back Draco’s emotions. “Why the bloody hell didn’t you tell me you were attacked? You clearly aren’t bound to an infirmary bed, so I can only assume you are still capable of a floo call.” Draco’s hand were pulling at his short hair now as the desperation and frustration and crippling _fear_ finally had an outlet. “Twelve bloody hours, Harry! Twelve bloody hours of no floo call...no owl...no damn patronus. At least I knew you weren’t dead or I would have been more out of my mind than I already was. Dear Merlin, I -” but the words died off and Draco was out of the chair and standing in front of Harry in a mere blink of an eye, his hands cradling Harry’s face as he turned it this way and that to catch the firelight, having finally noticed the disheveled state Harry was in. “What the fuck actually happened?” 

Not physically or mentally ready to get into the details with Draco, Harry dodged the question, asking one of his own instead. “How did you know?” his voice barely above a whisper.

“Granger stopped by St. Mungo’s. She needs to learn how to lie better, especially to a Slytherin,” Draco answered quickly and without elaboration, as he continued to catalogue Harry’s injuries with practiced eyes, trailing from the cut against Harry’s check to the myriad of bruises blossoming along the right side of his face to the already scabbed scratches littering Harry’s chin. “Now what the fuck happened?”

Harry let out a long, shaky breath, trembling hands grasping at Draco’s forearms to steady himself as he felt himself start to sway. “It’s a long story and I’d...I’d rather not think about it anymore for the time being.” Draco opened his mouth to argue but Harry cut him off. “Please, Draco. You already know that I was attacked and I’m still standing, just a bit worse for wear.” _That was perhaps the understatement of the century._ “Can we just leave it at that for now?” Harry pleaded, feeling like he was edging closer and closer to collapsing on his feet at any moment.

Draco must have finally seen the pure exhaustion that Harry was sure was written all over his face and for that, Harry let out a small sigh of relief. “Fine, but you have a lot of explaining to do tomorrow, Potter,” his tone soft as he spoke, the undercurrent of worry still clearly behind the words contradicting the request. Draco’s thumbs gently rubbed along the lines of Harry’s jaw, running slowly and softly over the scabs and stubble. Harry leaned into the touch, letting it be the calm comfort he so desperately wanted in that moment.

Taking hold of Harry’s hand, the touch warm and familiar settling his nerves further, Draco lead Harry into the dimly lit bedroom, sitting him on the edge of bed. With slow, gentle movements, Draco removed Harry’s clothes with practiced care, banishing them to the hamper before doing the same with his own clothing, but not before removing a small vial from his trousers and handing it over to Harry to take. 

In the end, both were left in just their pants and Draco was soon gently pushing Harry back to lay against the pillows and climbing in next to him, pulling the blankets around them both. Harry felt the heat of Draco’s skin against his own, safe and comforting, as Draco pulled him against his chest and pressed a kiss to the top of his head that spoke volumes in the silence. “Sleep now,” Draco whispered into the darkness, his breath ghosting over Harry’s ear. And Harry did just that, in the safety of Draco’s embrace to the steady _thump thump_ of the man’s heartbeat.

The next day dawned much earlier than Harry would have hoped, light streaming across his eyes as he and Draco apparently had forgotten to draw the curtains the night before. He knew he was alone in the bed, mainly because long limbs were not splayed over him. Draco would probably deny it with his last dying breath, but the man resembled an octopus when he slept, tangling his long limbs with Harry’s at every opportunity. 

While, Harry had gotten used to waking up alone more days than not since the school year started, he still wished this morning could have been different after, well, after everything. But he chose not to dwell on that fact, mainly because even thinking hurt right then, the inside of his skull throbbing with each beat of his heart.

Rolling over, Harry threw his hand haphazardly over the side of the bed to fumble along the nightstand in search of his glasses. He felt the cool metal and grabbed them gently before sliding them up his nose, the room slowly coming into focus around him as he blinked behind the lenses. His body ached even worse than the night before. Now it was a deep ache into his very core. With a pained groan, Harry swung his legs over the side of the bed sitting up, pausing for a moment as the world swam before his eyes and his stomach did an uneasy flip. 

Those sensations, simultaneously crashing over him, caused Harry to shut his eyes tightly again, bracing his hands on his knees and swallowing convulsively to push the bile back down, until he no longer felt like he was spinning wildly out of control. Blinking his eyes slowly open for a second time, he glanced over to his nightstand through narrowed slits and spotted a folded piece of parchment. With slow, deliberate movements as to not aggravate his body further, he grabbed the note, eyes skimming over the familiar handwriting.

> _Harry -_
> 
> _Remember -- you have some explaining to do tonight. I regretfully had to leave for work this morning (Anderson would be all over my arse if I called in), but I will floo back over tonight once my shift is done -- hopefully by 9:30 unless Anderson is being a right twat again and keeps me late._
> 
> _Take the pain potion -- Healer’s orders. You looked like one of Charlie’s dragons used you as a chewtoy. Not your best look, love._
> 
> _Take care._
> 
> _X Draco_

Without preamble, Harry set the note down, threw back the potion, and laid back down with the covers nearly pulled over his head, eyes closing on their own accord as he slipped back into darkness.

**~.~**

Harry passed most of the day alternating between sleep and short, bleary wakeful moments where he prayed to whatever Gods could hear him to just fall back asleep. However, by the time late afternoon rolled around, he was feeling on the slightly better side of miserable. His body at least no longer felt like the very fibers of his being were rearranging themselves.

With slower movements than a 150 year old wizard, Harry rolled himself out of bed and into the shower. He let the hot water unknot his muscles, simply standing under the spray as his skin took on a rosy-pink hue from the heat, and he continued to stand there until the water ran cool.

Stepping carefully out into the foggy room, he toweled dry and shuffled his way back to the bedroom, pulling out a worn pair of jeans with holes at the knees and an equally worn oversized jumper. Comfort. That’s all he wanted right about now.

And for Draco to be back, but he couldn’t have that just yet. 

And some tea. _That_ Harry could have.

Shuffling out of the bedroom and into the kitchenette, Harry turned on the kettle and started the tea steeping short moments later. The rich spice was welcoming as he grabbed the mug gently between his hands and inhaled the warm, comforting smell.

Cradling the mug to ensure he wouldn’t spill, Harry shuffled his way over to the sofa, allowing himself to sink into the warn leather. Since he had a bit of quiet time before Draco would be returning after his shift, Harry figured he could work on reading through the research parchments for his advanced theory class, still not ready to try focusing back on unraveling yesterday’s events just yet. 

With a gentle flick of his wand, an action he had done countless times, Harry summoned the stack of parchment he had lain out on his desk after classes ended on Friday. At least he tried to summon the parchment. 

Things did not go as Harry intended though. Instead of the papers gently floating into Harry’s outstretched hand, there was a muffled _whoosh_ sounding from some corner of his chambers and no parchment to be seen. Setting his mug on the side table with a furrowed brow, Harry gingerly got up from the sofa and made his way towards the room currently serving as his private office.

“Well that’s not what was supposed to happen,” Harry muttered to no one in particular as he surveyed the room before him. Papers were strewn all over, barely leaving any of the stone floor uncovered and it looked to be all of the advanced theory parchments he had tried to summon, as well as the rest of the already-marked essays from the younger years he had previously stacked on his desk. At least it didn’t appear that any of the parchments were destroyed. He was thankful for that small miracle.

Raising his wand to set the room to rights, the spell was on the tip of his tongue but Harry stopped himself before he could utter the words, the room before him a glaring reminder that his last attempt hadn’t worked out so well for him. Maybe his magic was suffering lingering after effects from the attack yesterday, just like his body. Deciding he better not risk all the parchments becoming confetti, Harry called for Minky.

“What can Minky be getting Profess’r Potter?” the young elf squeaked out as soon as she appeared before her large eyes saw the state of the room around her. “Oh dears,” she breathed, wringing her tiny hands.

Harry could feel a slight blush heat his cheeks as he glanced back over the mess once more, embarrassed by the sight. “Er...can you help sort out the papers, Minky? It appears my magic is a bit, um, wonky right now.” 

“Yesses Profess’r Potter,” she answered, nodding her head vigorously. Turning back to Harry with an oddly stern gaze, Minky placed a small hand and pushed at Harry’s shin with more force than Harry would have imagined, backing him from the room. “Yous go rest now, Profess’r Potter. Yous be needing your strength, yous do. Minky will fix this,” giving a small wave at the mess now behind her.

With another, gentler push from Minky, Harry decided it would be easier to not argue with the small creature and returned to his place on the sofa, but not before first stopping to select a book from his shelves since he wouldn’t be getting any classwork done after all. The cushion sunk around him as he situated himself and opened the heavy book in his lap, beginning to read Anatolus Anatoly’s _Doctrina de Trinitate Magicae._

Sometime later, several knocks echoed around the room, pulling Harry’s attention away from the book on his lap. Glancing up at the muggle clock on the mantle, Harry was surprised first at the time and second that someone would be knocking at his private chamber doors at this time on a Sunday. The knocks sounded again, more impatient this time, as Harry pulled himself off the sofa. Opening the door moments later, his eyes focused on the small fist poised to knock again before focusing on the fist’s owner. “‘Mione?” he asked, surprised to see the woman. “What are you doing here?” 

Brown eyes flew up to his face and Harry noted the brief flash of worry in them before Hermione schooled her features. “Oh hi, Harry. I was just dropping off some paperwork for the Headmistress and thought I would pop in and say hello since I was already here.”

“You do realize it is Sunday, right?”

Hermione let out a small, nervous laugh. “Of course I do.” 

“And you also realize you have never been able to lie to me, right?” Harry asked with a crooked grin at Hermione’s minor discomfort at his questioning. Harry knew she was checking up on him and thinking about it, he was actually surprised it took her this long.

Hermione had the grace to flush then. “Fine,” she conceded with a huff. “I wanted to check in on you after yesterday. Is that so hard to believe.”

“Not at all,” he replied with an easy laugh that eased some of the tension remaining deep in his bones, pulling Hermione into a tight hug. He felt her slender arms wrap around his middle, squeezing tightly in return.

That was the last thing Harry remembered before blackness eclipsed his vision.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I apologize for any verb tense issues I missed. I'm horrible at staying consistent.

There was a flurry of activity going on around him, at least that what it seemed like judging by the sounds buzzing in his ears. Disoriented, Harry blearily forced his eyes open and fought a groan at the onslaught of light.

“Harry,” a breathy voice called and soon Hermione was coming into almost-focus over him. “How do you feel?” the words rushed past her lips as she squeezed his hand.

Harry opened his mouth to respond but the words got stuck in his throat. Quickly a cool glass was placed against his lips, the cold water easing the cotton feeling of his mouth and the dryness of his throat. “Dunno yet,” he finally managed after several long gulps, although the word still came out closer resembling a jumble of sound than actual words. “Wh - what happen’d?”

Hermione was silent for a moment, slipping Harry’s glasses up his nose instead of answering. It wasn’t until she took a few steadying breaths that she found her words. “You collapsed, Harry. You were hugging me and then you just crumpled to floor. Completely dead weight. I didn’t even have time to react to try to catch you.” Hermione’s face paled further, her teeth worrying at her bottom lip. “And I couldn’t wake you up. Nothing - nothing worked, Harry. So I brought you here to the infirmary. I didn’t know what else to do.”

Harry gently squeezed the fingers that were back in his grasp. “‘s okay, ‘Mione.” And it was. From what he remembered, fuzzy as his memory was, there was most likely little else anyone could have done in the situation. Even he didn’t have any clue he had been about to pass out.

Hermione let out a long sigh sigh beside him, drawing Harry’s attention back from his thoughts. “Harry, I’m going to go notify Draco. I’ll be back in just a moment.” However, before Hermione could get up from her chair, Harry was tightly gripping her hand, trying to hold her in place.

“No, please don’t,” the words were quiet but rushed as they passed his lips. “He’s flooing over tonight after his shift. There’s no need to worry him while he’s working, especially since he is working with that asshat Anderson. Just please...I’ll tell him everything later when there is actually something to tell him.” 

Hermione mulled Harry’s word over before giving a curt nod in return, her thumb gently rubbing the back of Harry’s hand until his tight grip loosened. “Okay, Harry. ” She didn’t necessarily like Harry’s request, but she could respect it.

After that, Harry allowed his eyes to fall closed in an attempt to stem the dull headache that had started building with the earlier onslaught of light and took a moment to catalogue his body. He didn’t hurt nearly as bad as he had all night and much of the day with the exception of the headache, so that was something. He still didn’t feel great by any stretch of the imagination, but he at least didn’t feel really any worse than he did when researching in his room earlier.

With is eyes closed still, Harry finally paid attention to the other sounds around the room again, having pushed them out of his mind when he first awoken to the blinding light and white ceiling of the infirmary. Turning his head to the side, he finally cracked open his eyes to peer at the bed on his right, but he couldn’t see anything telling as Madame Pomfrey was standing between the two beds with her back to Harry, obscuring his view. Turning his head slowly back to Hermione in an effort to not make the throbbing worse, he asked, “Who’s that?”

Hermione’s eyes drifted to the other bed as she spoke. “Professor Snape. Apparently he collapsed too. Neville found him outside the Great Hall and brought him in right after I got you here.” 

_Snape was here too_ , Harry thought as he looked back over to the other bed, his heart rate jumping with worry for Snape as he seemed worse off than Harry seeing as Poppy was intently focused on the man. Harry’s mind was whirling. It was too coincidental that they both ended up here again after everything they went through yesterday, right? 

“Madame Pomfrey thinks that both your episodes are related to the spells yesterday,” Hermione added almost as an afterthought, answering the question Harry had been trying to string words together on his uncooperative tongue to ask. He simply nodded slowly in return. It would make sense. Thinking rationally, there was still too much that they didn’t understand about the magic that was created when all the spells -- old and new -- converged, let alone when that magic was absorbed into both himself and Snape right before the burst of magical energy seen in the memory.

After that, Hermione kept up a string of quiet, mostly one-sided conversation, whether out of anxiety or just to pass the time, while never letting go of his hand. Harry took comfort in the warm grasp, knowing that the contact was as much meant as reassurance for him as it was for Hermione. 

Time passed in that odd way it does when you’re stuck somewhere you would rather not be, where it feels like hours have passed when in reality it had merely been just a few minutes. At some point, Harry cannot honestly be sure when, Neville came in with a nervous smile, although making himself comfortable at the foot of Harry’s bed. After a few questions making sure Harry was relatively fine, or as fine as could be, he fell into quite conversation with Hermione. 

Harry let his eyes fall closed once again to the sound of the quiet words now exchanged between Hermione and Neville, too tired to fight to still-present exhaustion, and was on the cusp of sleep when he heard Poppy’s voice laced with frustration echo around the room. “I just don’t understand. _Rennervate._ ” 

Quickly opening his eyes in surprise, Harry turned his head and peered back over to the other bed to see Poppy now leaning over the bed, nearly stabbing her wand towards Snape’s chest muttering the spell over and over with seemingly no success to awaken the older man. “Oh for Merlin’s sake -- _rennervate_!” Harry could see the spell hit Snape square in the chest, a sizzling red light streaking from the wand tip, but nothing happened -- not even the slightest twitch.

_Odd_ , Harry thought. Odd, and disconcerting that the spell was having absolutely no affect on rousing the man. Curiosity (and worry) got the better of Harry. He needed to know what was going on. “Poppy?” 

“Harry!” the woman cried, spinning to look at him with wide eyes, wand still raised, although she quickly dropped her arm after the initial shock wore off.

“What’s going on? Is Snape okay?” he asked, eyes focusing on the unconscious man in the bed.

The mediwitch fiddled with the wand in her hand, an uncommon gesture for the woman who always seemed to be so self-assured within the walls of the infirmary. “Ye-” she started, but bit back the rest of the word, letting her shoulders sag in frustration. “Honestly? I’m not certain really. I cannot get Severus to wake up. All my diagnostics show that he should be awake, but he is not responding to the rennervate.”

That just didn’t make sense. While Harry obviously knew that there were types of magic designed to repel or block other magic, such as standard shield charms, a _rennervate_ was a active medical class charm. Those types of charms should never be able to be be blocked. The medical charms were created specifically that way, the wand movements and enunciation very deliberately woven together so that as long as the person was still alive, the charms should have some impact.

Something wasn’t adding up.

Looking back at the prone form of Snape and then to the distressed face of the mediwitch as she looked over the still unconscious man as well, a mad thought crashed over him. Carefully swinging his legs off the bed, Harry ignored the sputtering of Hermione behind him and Poppy beside him as he took the four short steps to get to the edge of Snape’s bed. Before really thinking better of it, Harry pulled his arm back and slapped the man’s face with a powerful _SMACK_ that echoed through the infirmary, silently praying to whatever Gods were out there that Snape would forgive him the action.

There were several beats of stunned silence before Poppy’s alarmed voice cut in. “What was the meaning of -” but her admonition was cut off by a long pained groan coming from the bed and dark eyes slowly blinking open. Before Snape tried to talk, Harry grabbed his earlier glass that still had water in it and slowly tipped it back against the man’s lips. 

Snape drank greedily, allowing the water to sooth the dryness of his throat until there was nothing left in the glass. “Good?” Harry asked, gesturing to the glass in his hand and Snape gave a nearly imperceptible nod in return. Setting the glass back on the table, Harry took a step back to give the man a bit more breathing room.

While Harry had been helping Snape drink, Poppy had moved closer to the edge of Snape’s bed, eyeing the man over once more with a critical eye. “I’m very happy to see you awake, Severus.”

Dark eyes blinked a few times while Snape tried to orient himself through his lingering daze from unconsciousness. “Poppy -” the name was slowly enunciated, “- why does it feel...as if my face...is tingling?” Snape asked, his voice sounding even deeper and rougher than normal.

Harry felt his cheeks warm as blush flooded them, involuntarily taking another step back to be just outside of the man’s physical reach and direct aim. Even laid up in the infirmary bed, Harry wasn’t stupid enough to think the man couldn’t or wouldn’t hex him blind given the right incentive, no matter how friendly of terms they were on. “Well -” he paused, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, “- that would be because of me, Snape. You weren’t waking up for Madame Pomfrey using magical means, so I tried, let’s say...muggle means.”

More slow blinks as Snape turned his head towards Harry’s voice. “Muggle?”

“He slapped you well and good across the face, Professor,” Neville clarified from the end of Harry’s bed where he was still sitting, safely out of direct striking distance.

Snape’s dark eyes bore into Harry’s and had this been another time, Harry may have actually been intimidated. But as it were, he was exhausted and couldn’t find it within himself to be cowed by the still-prickly man. “In my defense, it worked didn’t it?” he bit out.

Before the room could devolve into any sort of dramatics, Poppy pulled out her wand, carefully but determinedly rapping it against the metal footboard of the bed. “Now that you both are awake, I want to run a few more scans,” she said, looking pointedly between both men. “Sit back down and hold still, Harry dear.” 

Taking a few careful steps backwards until the bed hit the back of his knees, Harry finally sat down, swinging his legs up and settling back against the pillows. With practiced efficiency, Poppy ran her scans, warm yellow and blue and white light falling over first Harry and then Snape as the woman checked her two charges over, everyone else holding their breath for the results. As quickly as she had started, Poppy was soon lowering her wand, the warm magic lighting the room fading away.

“Well, everything looks fairly normal,” Poppy remarked, studying the resulting numbers and figures on the parchment floating in front of her. “Both of your magic levels are fluctuating a bit, but not to a dangerous point that I think we would need to intervene and not really any more then they were yesterday right after the attack.” With a practiced flick of her wrist, the mediwitch sent the parchment flying into her office be placed in the appropriate files. Tucking her wand back into her apron, Poppy turned her attention back to the two men occupying the beds. “Now, do either of you remember anything?”

Harry was the first to speak up. “Not really,” he answered with a small shrug. “I just remember getting up, answering the door, hugging ‘Mione, and then absolutely nothing until I woke up here. I didn’t really get a warning before I blacked out.”

With a quick nod, Poppy turned her focus to the other bed. “Severus?”Snape, who had been watching Harry as he spoke, turned his attention to the mediwitch with a slight frown. “Unfortunately, I have to agree with Potter. The last thing I remember was coming out of the Great Hall, having just forced down a meager dinner and then nothing up until the point where Potter slapped me,” shooting another glare towards Harry, albeit milder this time.

Harry mumbled out quite “sorry”, truly apologetic for slapping the man even if it _had_ finally awoken him.

“So nothing stands out? Nothing at all?” Poppy asked again, the frustration with the lack of any sort of substantial information to explain what happened to both men clear in her voice.The room was silent, waiting on either man to speak. It was Harry that broke the silence with another small shrug. “Nothing stands out at out of the ordinary, at least given the circumstances of the last day. However, I guess I didn’t feel...right today. Really since last night.”

This piqued Poppy’s interest. “How so, Harry?”

“Well, by the time I got back to my rooms from Minerva’s office, I felt like I had been trampled by a herd of scorned hippogriffs and that feeling unfortunately didn’t get any better after sleeping. I was nauseous and dizzy and it was like I could feel every nerve and fiber of my being.” An involuntary shiver ran rampant through Harry as he remember just how miserable he had felt. “I didn’t start feeling marginally better until a couple hours ago, although I wouldn’t claim to feel ‘good’ even now. I’m still exhausted and sore.”

Poppy’s hands smoothed over her apron in thought as she took in Harry’s words before turning her attention to the other bed. “Hmmm, Severus? What about you?”

“I had a similar experience. The best I could describe the sensation I experienced would be a dulled but constant _cruciatus_.” 

That description had Poppy’s face paling considerably, along with the rest of the room, Harry included as the description aligned with his own memory. “It was really that bad?” Harry nodded and could see Snape mirroring the action out of the corner of his eye. “Why didn’t either of you come see me?”

“I would like to know that answer as well,” Minerva’s voice cut in as the woman strode over towards the group, the infirmary doors closing noiselessly behind her. “You both seemed relatively fine last night. Understandably worn out, but I never would have assumed that either of you were under that level of pain or I would have insisted -” the word punctuated by an steely glare at both men, “- that you both be escorted to the infirmary as you left.”

It was Snape’s turn to answer this time, weariness clear in his voice. “Minerva, I can tell you that by the time I made it to my chambers, I wasn’t up to much logical or conscious thought at that point. I may have a very high threshold for pain, but there is only so much one can ignore before the act of ignoring becomes unbearable itself. It was easier to simply allow my body to succumb to the pain.” 

Nodding in agreement to Snape’s explanation, Harry added, “I don’t remember much of last night outside of finding Draco in my room and him putting me into bed, and even that is a bit hazy. This morning he gave me a pain potion, but like Snape said,” he paused, briefly flicking his eyes to the other man, “it felt easier to let my body and mind succumb to the pain and basically pass out for however long I needed. My head hurt too much, along with my body, to really consider any other option at the time.”

“So strange...” Hermione muttered more to herself, although loud enough for others to still hear in the otherwise quiet room, giving Harry’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “I’ve never heard or read of a curse reaction like that, at least a curse that didn’t kill the recipient in a manner of hours.” Everyone was seemingly in agreement with that statement as there were five solemnly nodding heads around the room, Harry included. 

Poppy shifted slightly, the small action drawing attention to mediwitch still stationed between the two infirmary beds. “Harry, Severus,” she started, looking between both men. “As much as it pains me to admit, I’m at a loss. Generally speaking, you both are as healthy as can be expected in light of recent events. With that said though, I insist that you both stay for further observation until we have some sort of idea of what caused your episodes and if there is a likelihood they will happen again. I’m sure the Headmistress will support my decision,” she finished, looking over to Minerva who is now standing at the end of Snape’s infirmary bed.

“I fully support Poppy,” Minerva said in support of the mediwitch. “Gentlemen, I am no longer young woman. Please keep this in mind before you both continue to scare years off my remaining life by the dozen. While I do care for you both, I have enough other things to worry about than just you two. You will both stay put until Poppy deems you fit enough to be discharged and you will not argue on that point. Do you understand me?”

Harry and Severus simply nod their understanding, neither willing to argue with the formidable woman.

Poppy once again reminded both men that they are to stay in bed until she says otherwise before retreating to the other side of the room where a couple open chairs are, Minerva following closely behind her. After that, the room slipped into a relative quite with only hushed voices in easy conversation creating a soft murmur bouncing off the walls.

As the time passed, Harry frequently found his eyes wandering over to the other bed, watching Snape sit eerily still, expression indicating the man was deeply in thought, most likely focused on trying to unravel this mess. Harry was hoping Snape was making more headway than he was, oddly at a loss for how everything -- the multiple, converging magics, the misspoken spell, the intense physical reactions -- fit together. It was a riddle that was frustrating to say the least, and one that was not doing any favors for the still dull ache in his head.

Leaving Snape to further theorize or whatever he was actually doing, Harry turned his attention back to Hermione and Neville, content to just sit back and listen to their friendly debate on the pollination habits of several rare plants Neville had been researching in the Amazon. As they continued to talk, the words became a soft buzz in Harry’s ears as he let his mind wander, flitting idly from one random thought to another.

“Potter, hex me. A mild stinging hex should be sufficient.” Snape’s voice was deep and commanding, cutting through Harry’s daydreaming.

His head snapped to the side, positive he had not heard Snape correctly, only to find the man sitting on the edge of his infirmary bed, staring intently over at him with an expression that promised Snape was completely serious. Despite Snape’s expression, Harry couldn’t help the “What?” that tumbled from his lips, still stunned.Snape simply rolled his eyes and Harry would have snorted at the gesture if he hadn’t been somewhat worried for the man, certain that Snape had just lost his bloody mind. “You heard me, Potter. Hex me. Do not argue.”

Harry stared a few more long moments at Snape really trying to sort out where this unorthodox request was going, but finally complied, swinging his own legs over the side of his bed so he was face to face with Snape. _The man surely wasn’t that crazy_ , he thought as he grabbed his wand from the side table and cast the stinging hex as requested, enough power behind it that Snape should feel something akin to a very hard pinch on his upper arm.

“Harry! Severus!” Poppy nearly squawked as her head snapped up from the parchment in her hands having heard heard the hex leave Harry’s lips, certain that Snape should not be taking any type of hex at this juncture, however minor. However, Snape just ignored her, instead continuing to stare intently at Harry.

“I felt nothing. Potter --” That, his last name falling past Snape’s lips, was all the warning Harry had before Snape’s dark wand was raised and pointing directly at him as the older man muttered the hex in return. Harry braced himself for pain, even going so far as to preemptively cringe into himself, but remarkably felt absolutely nothing. “Well?”

Blinking a few times, wide eyes glued to his upper arm where he knew the hex should of hit, Harry just had to shake his head. “I saw you hex me, but...nothing. I didn’t feel a thing. Not a pinch. Not a sting. Not even a tingle.”

“What does this mean?” Minerva’s voice cut in from near the end of Snape’s bed, having followed Poppy over when the exchange of hexes began, her gaze shifting between both men. “Severus?” 

Snape held up his hand to stem any further questioning from the woman for the moment, shifting his attention instead to the mediwitch now standing between the two bed, hands on her hips and disapproval clearly evident in her features. “One moment, Minerva. Poppy, would you mind if I sent a very mild tickling hex at you.”

Poppy looked around at the other faces in the room, but everyone aside from Snape appeared just as uncertain as she was for where this demonstration would be heading. Deciding to trust the man she had known for countless years, she gave a quick nod and a quiet, “I suppose,” before beginning to giggle like a schoolgirl moments later, Snape having wordlessly cast the jinx.

“Now Severus, what does this mean?” Minerva asked again, but this time her tone left little room for argument or further delay.

Snape finally turned his attention to the Headmistress. “I am not certain yet, Minerva. However, I wanted to test a theory I had been considering while Potter and I to be relegated to these beds for observation,” he answered with a hard gaze landing back on Poppy that spoke volumes of his feelings on the matter. “As you can see, despite the slight magical fluctuations Poppy noted in her diagnostics, the concern is not our magic. If it were, the tickling charm would not have worked on Poppy. Our magic is still functioning appropriately when called upon, which leads to what I had wanted to test. I believe that there is something, some force, continuing to provide a sort of shield for both Potter and I, which is why the rennervate cast on me earlier did not work earlier.”

The room fell silent for a moment, as everyone took in Snape’s words, mulling the potential of truth behind his words when all other factors were considered together. “Could it be the girl’s spell?” Harry turned his head quickly to the side at the sound of Hermione’s voice breaking the silence, before turning back towards Snape, waiting on his response.

Harry watched as Snape’s eyes flicked to Hermione before quickly locking back with his own. “Undoubtedly. There was already a strong shield cast by Mr. Simon surrounding both Potter and I. We could see it quite clearly in the memories we reviewed last night. The spell that Ms. Bishop cast had to have mutated, for lack of a better term, the shield. When Potter and I absorbed the magic, merlin only knows what that mutation did as our bodies and magic took it in.” Turning back to the mediwitch who had been oddly silent through the exchange, Snape added, “Poppy, please rerun your charms.”

“Severus,” the exasperation was clear in the woman’s voice, “I have already ran them all. Your magic levels are adequate, albeit mildly fluctuating, as established already. Your vitals are fine -- better than I honestly would have expected with how you both turned up here today. What more do you expect?”

“Humor me,” he deadpanned. “Please run any medical charm you can think of, even ones that seem unlikely to outright impossible. There must to be something we are missing to explain the lack of effectiveness of the active magic. The more passive magic -- the diagnostic charms -- appear to be working perfectly fine, but something is blocking the more active magic -- the magic tied to spells and charms and hexes meant to cause a physical reaction in the body.”

Poppy was clearly still doubtful of Snape’s request by the dubious expression she wore. However, despite her misgivings, Harry watched as she pulled her wand from her apron and began running charm after charm over the other man. 

Watching magic, when you really took a step back to notice all the minute changes in the air and the light was quite mesmerizing and Harry was entranced by the soft yellows, blues and white of the diagnostic charms. Harry would have been relatively content to just watch the flicker of one charm to the next, but a gasp from the mediwitch had Harry’s eyes snapping up in concern.

Poppy was not paying attention to her captive audience though, especially the stares of both Severus and Harry trained on her. Instead, she just kept running the charms, one after the other, brow furrowing further at the results floating next to her. Without a word, Poppy turned, wand still held aloft, and began running the charms over Harry, the room eerily silent as if everyone were even afraid to breathe. 

The unreadable look on Poppy’s face wasn’t promising and it was quickly sending Harry’s heart rate speeding up, the stress of the last few days and his already frayed nerves catching up with him. “What?! What is it?” he asked, the panic evident and rising in his voice. 

“I...you’re....no, it can’t be.” Poppy just shook her head and then her wand as if that will miraculously change the outcome before running the charms once more, certain that something wasn’t correct. 

It just cannot be correct.Panic continued to bloom in Harry’s chest as he watched Poppy mutter charm after charm. He didn’t face down Voldemort, come back from the dead-limbo-whatever, defeat the snake-faced bastard, and become an expert in spell theory just to end up a casualty of some new magic that he couldn’t yet unravel -- something he was supposed to specialize in. 

“Poppy, please,” he pleaded, the situation becoming too much him.

Finally looking up from the results, first looking at Harry first and then Severus and then back to the parchment before her. “You’re pregnant.” The statement would be so unbelievable -- so impossible -- for the mediwitch if there weren’t four back-to-back scans to prove otherwise. “Both of you.” She looked between the two men once more, eyes then falling to the parchment grasped tightly in her hands once more. “But it can’t be. Wizards can’t get pregnant.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there it is. 
> 
> If you happened to miss the MPREG tag and that isn't your thing, you probably want to turn back now. 
> 
> Also, for what it is worth, I'm not writing them both pregnant for the hell of it (read: to feed my MPREG obsession). I have actual reasons that we'll get to outside of my admitted love of pregnant Harry and pregnant Snape.


End file.
